The Severus He Saved
by Jazz1
Summary: According to the Wizarding World, Severus Dumbledore was murdered when he was four years old...but was he really?
1. Prologue

The Severus He Saved  
  
By Jazz  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, too bad for me. Don't sue me, I'm not making any money.  
  
Author's Note: Reviews are appreciated but no flaming for no good reason. Suggestions fine, comments great, rude flames no.  
  
Chance, that's what started it. Toss a Muggle dice and you have a one in six chance that you will get the number you want. Some odds are greater than others. In a Muggle card deck you have a one in fifty two chance of picking a certain card while on one of their coins it's a one in two odds; heads or tails.  
  
Now, out of fifteen teachers, it was Flitwick that got sick and needed a sub to teach his classes for two days. Two days with three classes a day means six classes total. So, what was the likely hood that one teacher should have two classes a day fall into his prep periods, periods when all the other teachers were either busy or in need of their time so that they couldn't take the classes?  
  
Believe me, I tried to do the math but got hopelessly messed up. Let's just say, you'd have to be really unlucky. Or lucky, depending on your point of view… 


	2. Hex and Discovery

Disclaimer: Nothing's mine  
  
Author's Note: Some child abuse (hitting) and a curse word or two  
  
  
  
Third year Charms with Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Severus Snape resisted the urge to sigh loudly and looked over at the sea of students practicing the charm of the day.  
  
All of the Ravenclaw had accomplished the task though a female Gryffindor was still struggling with the pronunciation of the words. One of the Ravenclaw finally took pity on her and went over to help.  
  
Snape glanced at his watch and was relieved to see that he only had fifteen minutes left. Then he would be free to return to his rooms and hide out until dinner. Maybe even longer if he didn't feel like going up and the Headmaster didn't come down and fetch him, as he had a habit to do.  
  
It seemed to be happening more often lately, actually. Skipping dinner, that is. Thinking about Voldermort, Death Eaters, spying, or his eventual death when he was discovered kinda took away his appetite.  
  
The sound of falling books and angry shouts startled Snape out of his daze like state. He stood up and groaned. He did not need this right now.  
  
Two boys, one from each house were rolling on the ground, fists flying. Though Ravenclaw usually preferred to stay out of fights, this particular child was of Slytherin background; both his parents and his older sister.  
  
"Take it back!" Kyle, the Ravenclaw hollered at Steven, the Gryffindor, as Snape tried to move through the group of cheering classmates. Kyle pushed Steven away and grabbed his wand off his desk. He drew his hand back .  
  
"Influentia!" he yelled in fury, throwing one of the many nastier hexes he had read about in his sister's textbooks.  
  
Again came the odd probabilities. The hex determined for Steven missed as Snape pulled him away from the center of the ring created by the spectating students. It missed Steven and hit Snape square in the back instead. The cheering died instantly.  
  
Kyle paled and nearly dropped his wand. He had just cursed the most feared teacher in the whole school! He was going to be expelled for sure, he just knew it. Snape had that reputation.  
  
The headache started first, quickly followed by nausea and dizziness. Snape closed his eyes and reached out for a chair. He lowered himself into it and swallowed hard as his stomach revolted against him.  
  
"Hobson," he hissed, making the Kyle jump, "Please fetch Professor Lupin and ask him to come here at once."  
  
He opened one eye and looked at the rest of the class who were watching him like one watches an angry predator, no sudden moves.  
  
"Three rolls of parchment on the hex Mr. Hobson cast and what its symptoms are. Include which charms and potions can be used to counteract it. Due tomorrow with your potions homework, and it will count. Class is dismissed early."  
  
The students ran to gather their belongings and hurried out of the room. Snape leaned forward in the chair and hoped Kyle would fetch the teacher quickly.  
  
He didn't like having to chose Lupin, who was back teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts again, but he needed to be de-hexed and of the nearest teachers Lupin seemed the best choice.  
  
He really wasn't in the mood for another one of McGonagal's lectures and then having the hexing incident retold for all the other staff. Lupin would be a bit more discreet.  
  
The classroom door opened again and Lupin hurried in, a concerned looking Kyle tagging along behind him. Lupin took in the pale, sick look on the Potion Master's face and waved Kyle out of the room.  
  
"You can go, now. I'll just get rid of the hex and he'll be fine." Kyle nodded and scampered out the door so fast he could have dissipated, if it weren't impossible on Hogwarts grounds.  
  
"Head up Severus," Lupin said cheerfully as he took out his wand. Snape growled but did as he was told.  
  
"Finitum Terminus!" Snape instantly felt better as the curse lifted and sat up straight to see Lupin staring at him.  
  
"What?" Snape demanded, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.  
  
Lupin shrugged, not bothered by the sharp tone.  
  
"It looked like your hair changed color for a second." Then he bid Snape farewell and made his exit.  
  
Snape sat still in surprise for a second before rising to his feet and gathering his teaching materials. He locked the door firmly behind him and hurried down to the dungeons and to his rooms.  
  
All the way down what Lupin had said stayed with him. Why would his hair seem to change color? He unlocked and pushed his door open and dropped the things in his arms unceremoniously into a heap on his table. He had to know.  
  
Snape moved across the room and took a seat at his desk, sweeping un-graded papers out of his way. He brought out his wand and conjured a large, floating, oval mirror.  
  
It was a regular mirror with no magical properties at all, he didn't care much for the others that talked back or occasionally insulted him.  
  
If a regular stop-curse only changed his hair color in an amount of time that someone with abnormal eyesight could see, such as a werewolf, then to lift whatever spell was cast, the stop-curse charm must have to be cast harder.  
  
Snape leaned forward and adjusted the angle of the mirror so that she spell would reflect back to him. He took a deep breath and pulled his chair closer. This was going to hurt.  
  
"FINITUM TERMINUS!" He threw the charm fiercely and it came hurtling back into his face like a ton of bricks. Snape let his cheek rest on the desktop for a minute as the sting faded. Then he slowly raised his head to look in the mirror.  
  
How long Snape sat there looking at his reflection, he didn't know. All he knew was a one point he heard a soft knock at his door. Slowly, still in a daze, he sat up and turned his face toward the door as Dumbledore finally decided to let himself in.  
  
"Severus," Dumbledore called, closing the door behind him, "Where were you at-" his words suddenly were choked off as he saw his teacher sitting silently at the desk.  
  
Snape thought briefly on how odd the scene was. Dumbledore had come down to ask him why he missed dinner, again, and found him sporting dark auburn hair, clear blue eyes, and starring at his reflection.  
  
"Severus?" Dumbledore asked as he hurried over. He knelt down in front of the teacher and slowly reached out a hand as if to touch Snape's cheek but pulled back self-consciously.  
  
"All I did was cast a finitum terminus, albeit rather hard" Snape murmured, blue eyes still wide in disbelief. Dumbledore stood and nodded sadly.  
  
"I know." Snape shook his head, confused. Why did the charm have this reaction?  
  
"What happened to me?" With a sigh, Dumbledore pulled another chair over and took a seat. Snape looked at him, trying to anchor himself to reality.  
  
"Tell me Severus, as far back as you can remember, what is your first memory?" Snape blinked, surprised. He hadn't expected that. Then he moved back slightly away from the Headmaster and the question. His far past wasn't something he liked remembering. In fact, it was something he constantly tried to forget.  
  
"Please Severus," Dumbledore asked gently, seeing the bitterness grace his companion's face.  
  
"It's important." Snape sighed and closed his eyes. Well, this had certainly evaporated his muddled state. What was his oldest memory?  
  
"I remember my first day at the orphanage in Knockturn Alley when I was four," he finally announced flatly before looking at the floor.  
  
"I have no memories before that. The Overseer of orphanage believed that my life before was so terrible that I locked it away in my sub- conciseness." Dumbledore laughed harshly causing Snape to look up quickly.  
  
"Nothing could be further from the truth, Severus," he said giving his head a sad little shake.  
  
"Severus," he said taking a deep breath and looking up, blue meeting identical blue, "You're mine." Snape froze, his mind racing to make sense of what he thought he had just heard. He could only think of one way that could be taken but surely he couldn't have meant-  
  
"Severus?" Dumbledore asked again, reaching out to touch. This time it was Snape who jerked away leaving Dumbledore's eyes to fill with worry and hurt. Snape ignored the expression, rage blocking his compassion.  
  
"Do you mean to tell me," Snape hissed, rising to his feet in anger, "That for my whole life I have thought I abandoned at four years old and the whole time you, you-" Dumbledore stood too and nodded.  
  
"You are my child, Severus." Snape was shaking now. He was not hearing this, he would not listen to this.  
  
"Get out," he growled, his eyes filling with tears. Oh gods, why was he telling him this? What good could it possibly do now? "Get out and leave me alone."  
  
"Please Severus," Dumbledore said, taking a small step forward.  
  
"Let me explain." Snape shook his head wildly, auburn hair flying from side to side. He couldn't deal with this. He spent his whole childhood lonely and unwanted and he thought he could explain it?  
  
"I don't want to hear it!" he shouted, placing his hand over his ears in defiance. Nothing he could say could possible make things right.  
  
"I love you, damnit!" Dumbledore was shouting too now, "And I am not going to loose you again because you are to stubborn to hear me out!"  
  
Snape slowly removed his hands form his ears and glared up at the older wizard. He had half a mind to remain firm on his decision not to listen but something stopped him. Did he say he loved him? Grudgingly he admitted it was worth finding out what the Headmaster had to say.  
  
"Then start." Snape folded his arms across his chest in a motion the clearly said, 'impress me.'  
  
Dumbledore sighed, this was not how he had ever envisioned this moment.  
  
"I can not explain everything. You need your memory back to understand why I did what did." Yes, that would be the best way to go about it. Slowly he took out his wand.  
  
"I give you back what you lost." He whispered the spell over Snape's head and slowly the memory spell began to unwind, releasing the memories kept hidden for so long.  
  
Snape felt overwhelmed as everything rushed at him in a whirl of blending colors and information. Names, places, small child joys, a mother's leaving and growing closer to his father, love.  
  
Memories appeared from their hidden place, supplying information he had never been aware of. Then slowly, the flow of memories calmed and settled on the one that would give him the answers he needed. 


	3. Remember

Disclaimer: I receive no money for this. I am simply doing this for fun. J. K. owns everyone. Shame I didn't think of it first.  
  
Author's Note: Some child abuse (hitting) and a curse word or two.  
  
-Another Note: The reason the previous chapter was *cough, cough* short, is to get you hooked so that you come back.  
  
  
  
"There, you've seen her. Now it's bedtime for you, little one." Four-year- old Severus D. Dumbledore pouted as his father picked him up off the floor.  
  
"I'll be right back, Tammi," Dumbledore informed the babysitter as Severus fidgeted in his arms. Tammi, a pretty girl of fourteen, set her bag on the floor and took out a book.  
  
"Sure Mr. Dumbledore," she replied brightly. Severus made a face at her over his father's shoulder and she laughed.  
  
"Good night, Severus," she called as she made herself comfortable on the couch with the novel.  
  
Tammi Calison often babysat Severus when Dumbledore had to go to a meeting. If it was a Hogwarts staff meeting it would be earlier in the day and her job would include playing with, feeding, and putting Severus to bed. If the meeting was Ministry business there was a chance Severus could already be asleep before she even arrived.  
  
Dumbledore carried Severus upstairs to the third level and to the wing that belonged to the boy. Severus looked unhappily at his bedroom door that they were steadily approaching and then up at his father.  
  
"A little longer?" He begged as they stopped outside his room. Dumbledore laughed. How many times had he heard this? It was almost routine now.  
  
"No Severus. It's your bedtime now. Not five or ten or fifteen minutes from now." Severus scowled even though he had been expecting that answer. It never hurt to ask. Or complain, for that matter.  
  
"Not fair."  
  
"I know, child," Dumbledore replied as he pushed the door open. It was a lovely little room that they entered. The walls were a vanilla blue this month. Pushed against one wall was the bed with just enough space for small things to slip between it and the wall.  
  
On the other side of the room was a wardrobe that held the boy's clothes; mostly robes in various shades of blue and green. And at the foot of the bed was a toy chest inscribed with the owner's name.  
  
Speaking of toy chest, one of the House Elves must have already been by. The mess that Severus had made earlier was picked up and the dark blue covers of the little bed had been turned down. Dumbledore smiled and made a mental note to tell Haley to stop putting away Severus's toys, he needed to start doing that himself.  
  
As tempting as it was to give Severus whatever he wanted, Dumbledore knew that it could spoil him. And he had seen enough spoiled children come through Hogwarts to know that he was not going to let that happen to Severus.  
  
Gathering nightwear, Dumbledore dressed Severus for sleep and then placed him under the soft flannel sheets.  
  
"Daddy?" Severus asked, turning over to look at him. Dumbledore sat down on the bed next to his son.  
  
"Yes Severus?"  
  
"Don't go." Dumbledore smiled as he smoothed the auburn hair out of his child's face.  
  
"I have to, Severus." Severus shook his head stubbornly.  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not?" Dumbledore asked gently. The blue eyes that were like mirrors of his own clouded in uncertainty.  
  
"It feels bad," Severus finally decided. Dumbledore chuckled lightly and hugged him.  
  
"I'll be fine, child."  
  
"Promise?" Eyes wide and innocent. Dumbledore kissed his son's forehead and nodded.  
  
"I promise." Straightening, Dumbledore made sure the blankets were tucked around his child and placed a warm hand on his forehead.  
  
"Goodnight, Severus. Be good. Tammi is downstairs if you need anything." Severus smiled sleepily and nodded. Then he yawned and curled up on his side like a little puppy.  
  
"Nite Daddy." Dumbledore waved off most of the candles that illuminated the room and paused at the door to look back at his child; such a simple joy, watching his son sleep. Then he closed the door and went downstairs to give Tammi instructions before he left for the Ministry meeting.  
  
Tammi smiled to herself as she shut the floo behind her employer. Unlike some people she knew, Tammi liked babysitting. Had she not been born a Squib she would have been sorted into Hufflepuff; she loved looking after children. Oh yes, Severus could be a handful at times, but he was really a sweet little boy.  
  
Anyway, she had watched worse. One particularly called to mind was the Malfoy brat. Tammi grinned ruefully at the thought of the blond haired child who insisted rather rudely that she call him 'Sir.' Thank the gods he was old enough to stay home alone now.  
  
Tammi settled herself comfortably on the couch to read the book her Muggle teacher had assigned. She opened the book to its marked page and looked around the room. She liked it here at the Dumbledore Estate. The house had a friendly, welcoming feeling about it that put her at ease. It seemed like nothing bad could ever happen there; a sanctuary if you please. Laughing, Tammi turned her attention back to the novel on her lap and quickly became engrossed in the story.  
  
Charley Darnay had just decided to return to France despite the warning Mr. Lorry gave against it when Tammi's head shot up from her book. Something was bothering her.  
  
Disentangling herself from her warm seat, she went up a flight of stairs and cocked her head, listening for any unusual sound from Severus's room. She heard nothing.  
  
Then she shivered. It suddenly felt so much colder. She was a Squib, yes, but her grandmother had been a highly respected Diviner. Sometimes Tammi thought she had inherited some of that natural instinct. And that instinct was screaming that she was not alone.  
  
Tammi whirled around to see two tall wizards dressed all in black moving toward her. She screamed once and fell dead in a flash of bright green light.  
  
"Stupid girl," the taller of the two laughed, kicking the lifeless body. "Who does she think will hear her? The boy?" The other glanced around and grimaced. The 'goodness' in the magic that penetrated the very air he was breathing made him feel ill.  
  
"Come on Aries," he snapped irritably, "Let's just kill the kid and get it over with." Aries smiled cruelly, ignoring his compatriot's lack of appreciation for the glory of their task.  
  
"Let's."  
  
Severus was yanked awake by a scream. His heart beating fearfully, he sat up in his bed and listened to the darkness. Footsteps, loud and heavy. Not light and happy like Tammi's or smooth and calm like his father's. He heard a loud crash like shattering glass and tumbled out of his bed.  
  
Running to the door, he peaked out and saw two black figures moving down the hall, the taller smashing anything he saw with manic like glee while the other moved at his side like a shadow of death.  
  
Frightened, Severus stumbled backwards and fell to the floor. Crawling quickly he slipped under his bed and curled up in the furthest corner with his back pressed against the wall. The door to his room creaked open and he saw thick black boots approach his hiding place. He heard an angry yell.  
  
"He's not here!" Severus cringed at the harshness of the voice.  
  
"You must have woken him up with all that noise, Aries," another voice countered flatly.  
  
"Shut up, Jaques! Start looking for the brat, he couldn't have gone far." Severus shivered in his thin sleep-clothes and pressed himself further into the dark recesses, hoping it would keep him hidden.  
  
There was the sound of things being thrown about and then the man called Jaques called calmly to his companion, "I can't find him."  
  
Aries growled in frustration. Where the hell could the Dumbledore brat have gone? And gave the bed in front of him a fierce kick. Then he paused and looked back at Jaques. The other man nodded, he had heard the surprised yelp too.  
  
Severus placed his hands over his mouth quickly. He hadn't meant to do that. But when Aries kicked his bed the frame had moved ever so slightly and one of the posts had bashed his hand. The room was suddenly silent. Removing his hands he listened carefully. He didn't hear anything. Maybe they had gone.  
  
The heartening idea was abruptly crushed as a large, black gloved hand latched onto his shirt and hauled him up. Severus cried out in fear as he was thrown fiercely onto his bed.  
  
"Daddy!" he screamed even though he knew his parent could neither hear or help him. He was rewarded for his outcry with a hard slap across his face that made him fall over.  
  
"Shut your trap," Aries snapped. Severus looked up at him through teary blue eyes. No one had ever hit him before. Aries smiled evilly.  
  
"Poor little thing. Are you hurt?" Severus shook his head and began to inch away from him, hopping to slip back under the bed to his hiding place. Aries grabbed a fist full of the auburn hair and dragged him back painfully.  
  
"I don't think I said you could go." Again Aries hit him as Jaques watched, disinterested. He could care less about what Aries did to the boy. But he was beginning to loose his temper. Playing with a little boy was one thing. Hanging out at second most powerful Wizard's house longer than needed just so that you could take advantage of a child was another.  
  
"Will you just kill him already? Riddle doesn't care how much you make him bleed, he just wants him gone." Aries glanced away from his capture and narrowed his eyes.  
  
"No," he corrected in a low, silky tone, "He wants Dumbledore to hurt. The best way to do that is through his kid. I think he'll be more heartbroken to know his only child died slowly in pain rather then quickly." Jaques shrugged, uninterested in Aries' twisted logic.  
  
"I want my daddy," Severus whimpered, not fully understanding what was being said. All he knew was that these two were wrong. The wrongness, the dark feelings, swirled around them in an almost tangible aura. But all he got for his comment was another slap, this one causing his nose to bleed and the blood to dribble down his face.  
  
"Such a pretty little boy," Aries commented, wiping the blood away with his thumb. Severus flinched and Aries laughed.  
  
"Don't like me, do you?" Jaques sighed in exasperation. That's it, he was sick and tired of Aries wasting time.  
  
"Aries," he snapped, "I have a bad feeling about this place. Just get rid of him. Now." Aries stepped back from his young prisoner and nodded. He noticed his friend had run out of patience. Jaques was slow to anger but dangerous when he had reached the end of his tolerance. Pity though, now he wouldn't get to play with the boy before they finished him off.  
  
"Do you want to kill him or shall I?" Aries asked, acknowledging the other's control of the situation. Jaques smiled thinly and looked at the trembling little boy watching them with large, teary blue eyes.  
  
"Together, I think." After all, he didn't want to deprive Aries of all his fun. Each took out a wand and leveled it at the child. Together in perfect harmony the wands rose in the air and began to fall.  
  
"Avada Keda-" The spell was suddenly interrupted at the door flew open. Aries stared in surprise.  
  
"Stupefy!" The spell caught Aries before he had even begun to raise his wand at the intruder but Jaques's mind worked faster. He would finish the task they had been sent to do. He whirled back around to the child.  
  
"Avada Kedavra!" Then he too was hexed into unconsciousness.  
  
***  
  
Albus Dumbledore sat at the table with the members of the Ministry. It was just a routine meeting, not even very interesting topics were being discussed.  
  
Cornelius Fudge, a rising politician, was giving a rather dull speech on something or other when he heard a cry resounding through his mind.  
  
'Daddy!' Dumbledore froze in his seat. The scream was so afraid; his child, what was wrong with his child? Especially if he had been terrified enough to send the call using the wandless magic that young children were prone to using without knowing they were doing so.  
  
Dumbledore stood quickly and Fudge frowned at being interrupted.  
  
"Albus?" the Minter asked, concerned at the abruptness the younger wizard was uncharacteristically displaying.  
  
"What is it, my friend."  
  
"Severus," Dumbledore replied anxiously, "Something's wrong with Severus." A few seats over Roodwood smiled tolerantly.  
  
"Can't it wait until the meeting is over?" He asked. Dumbledore shook his head and turned beseechingly to the Minster of Magic.  
  
"I must get to him at once." The Minster of Magic thought for a second. It seemed like a silly reason to interrupt the meeting but the look of the panic in his friend's eyes was enough to sway his decision.  
  
"Go to the boy," he announced, "Check to see if he's alright." Dumbledore nodded his thanks and hurried out to the dissipating site. From there he reappeared in front of his own door. (He had been unable to use the floo, Tammi always closed it after his left) He unlocked the door with a sweep of his wand and hurried inside.  
  
"Tammi?" he called, "Tammi, answer me." But he was only met with silence. His fear spiked as his heart began to beat faster. He hurried up the first flight of stairs and gasped. There was Tammi's lifeless body sprawled on the floor, her eyes wide in horror and a scream frozen on her lips.  
  
"Severus." Dumbledore ran up the stairs as fast and as quietly as he could, praying to whatever higher power existed that his child was alive.  
  
As he got closer to Severus's room he heard, to his terror, two harsh male voices arguing and then caught the word 'kill.' Heart pounding, he fairly flew the last few feet, yanked the door open and cast the stunning spell.  
  
But two people meant two times the spell had to be cast. Just as he cast the hex the second time he heard the other man cast the killing curse and saw a bright green flash of light. Then his spell found its mark and the other man fell lifelessly to the floor.  
  
Dumbledore stepped over the bodies and looked around. His child was no where to be seen. Surely the killing curse didn't vaporize its victim. He shook just thinking about it. Where was Severus?  
  
"Severus?" he called, his voice shaking with emotion. "Severus! Child where are you?"  
  
TBC…  
  
AN: Don't you hate when I do that? 


	4. It Starts

Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. I make no money doing this. It is merely a pastime that I have grown immensely fond of.  
  
  
  
Severus shivered and wrapped the edge of the blanket around his tiny body. As soon as the bad men had been distracted he had begun to move. He didn't care if he got hit for it again; he was going to get away from them. The one called Jaques had cast a spell, but it had gone over his head as he dropped over the side and hid back underneath the bed.  
  
He heard the door creak slightly and was suddenly aware that another person had entered the room. He crouched as small as he could, hoping they wouldn't find him again.  
  
Daddy, he wanted his daddy. Tears began to flow down his cheeks again. Where was he? Why didn't he come?  
  
"Severus?" Severus stopped shaking for a second. He though he had heard…  
  
"Severus! Child where are you?" There was fear in this new voice but to his ears it sounded just like… Slowly, mindful of the bruises on his body, Severus climbed to his feet. His head didn't reach the top of the bed but the color of his hair and the movement attracted attention.  
  
Hands reached for him and he quickly shut his eyes. 'Please, not again.' But the hands were gentle this time, though a bit frantic. And familiar, they were familiar. Long arms wrapped around him held him close. Severus moved slightly and lay his cheek against the warm chest.  
  
"Daddy?" he whispered, eyes still closed.  
  
"Yes, I'm here child. Ssshh, I'm here." Severus's eyes opened and he twisted around to look up at his father's concerned, frightfully ashen face. Timidly, he wrapped his thin arms around his parent's neck, his fragile fingers twisting into the auburn locks that nearly matched his own. Safe, he was safe.  
  
Severus didn't complain as he was wrapped in a sheet from his bed or as he was taken downstairs and then outside into the cold night. All he cared was that his father had come to rescue him from the bad ones.  
  
Dumbledore hurried down the walk, tightened his hold on his child and then dissipated. Not a terribly safe thing, but he needed to get Severus far away and quickly.  
  
Once, twice, three times they appeared and disappeared until Dumbledore decided they had warped their magic trail enough so that no one could follow them.  
  
He looked around and vaguely took note of their surroundings. They were in a cramped wooden cabin where the nearest person was over fifty miles away. In the room they had appeared in there were only a few pieces of worn furniture and a fireplace that looked like it hadn't been used in decades.  
  
Only once they were safely here in this forsaken place did Dumbledore loosen his grip on his son. He sat down on the beat up couch with Severus and looked him over.  
  
No bones seemed broken, thank the gods for small favors, but the sight of the bruises spreading over the pale skin and the blood both drying and smeared made him feel queasy. What monster had dared to hurt his child?  
  
He reached to touch and Severus flinched. Then the boy looked away, ashamed. His father had never, never harmed him. Why was he running then? Severus's eyes begin to fill with tears one more. He didn't understand.  
  
"My poor baby," Dumbledore whispered softly, drawing Severus back into his arms and rubbing comforting circles on the tiny back. Again he mentally cursed the two who had abused his child. But taking a shaky breath he preceded to push the dark rage back down. Severus needed kindness and care. His anger could do nothing but get the boy more upset.  
  
"It's alright, Severus. They can't hurt you anymore." Severus hid his face in the soft hair and cried in soft sniffling tones, looking for comfort in his father's arms.  
  
Dumbledore just held him close and let his love for his child override the hate he felt towards the boy's attackers. Severus's shaking diminished and Dumbledore rocked him gently, speaking in low tones and reassuring the boy that he wasn't alone anymore.  
  
"Why does he hate you?" Dumbledore was surprised at the soft question and pulled back to see his child's face.  
  
"What do you mean, Severus?" The child rubbed at his eyes, not really wanting to talk about it.  
  
"They," his voice shook slightly, "they said that he wanted you hurt and the best way to do that was to hurt me." The trembling was back.  
  
"Why? What did I do?" The blue eyes pleaded for an answer and Dumbledore drew his son back to him with a heavy heart. There was no need to as who the 'they' were that Severus was referring to. But how did he go about explaining the evils of the world to a four-year-old?  
  
"Severus, as you get older you are going to find that there are many different kinds of people in the world. Some of those people are bad. They hurt others. When people try to stop them, like I have in the past, they sometimes attack families. They don't like me and because you are my child they have decided they don't like you. It is nothing you have done. Do you understand, Severus? You have done nothing wrong." Severus nodded and shifted slightly before curling back against him.  
  
Dumbledore frowned suddenly. Something was bothering him, something Severus had said.  
  
"Severus," he inquired gently, "Did they say who wanted to hurt us?" Severus's eyes opened briefly as he thought about the conversation between the men wearing black. There had been a name. It had reminded him of word puzzles.  
  
"Riddle," Severus replied, closing his eyes. That was the name. The protective arms around him suddenly went tighter and he squirmed uncomfortably. The crushing hold did not loosen. Actually, it was getting kind of hard to breathe.  
  
"Daddy, you're hurting me." Dumbledore started at the upset voice and released him. In his initial reaction he hadn't realized he was holding him so close.  
  
"I'm sorry, child," he said gently touching the boy's cheek in apology.  
  
Severus watched him, a bit confused at his behavior. Then he nodded his acceptance and curled back against him. Dumbledore hugged him carefully and then let his mind drift to what Severus had told him.  
  
Riddle. Dumbledore had heard that the man had gone deep into the Dark Arts, but usually such wizards ended up destroying themselves before truly mastering the powers of Black Magic.  
  
Apparently Tom had better control on the powers then he expected. And if Tom had gathered people that would willingly carryout the murder of a child for him… With a shiver, Dumbledore remembered the determination and single mindedness of the young student he had known. If Tom Riddle was trying to gather followers, he would get them.  
  
Dumbledore let his thoughts drift to the future. In several years, Tom could very well start a war if he wished. He was persuasive and never believed that there was something he couldn't accomplish, no matter who he hurt in the process. If he wanted it, he would get it one way or another.  
  
That thought in his mind, Dumbledore looked down at his son, nearly asleep in his arms. If Tom Riddle became determined to kill Severus, nothing short of a miracle could save him.  
  
Dumbledore slowly began to stand up and Severus's eyes snapped open. In a blind panic his small hands fastened onto his father's hair and held fast, preventing him from leaving.  
  
"It's okay, Severus," Dumbledore said soothingly, trying to calm him, "I'm just going to make a cup of tea." Severus shook his head and held tighter.  
  
A slight smile finding it's way to his lips, Dumbledore picked up his son and carried him about the room as he went about preparing the hot water, the Muggle way. He needed the contact as much as Severus did, maybe more.  
  
After preparing a cup of tea for himself and a mixture of lukewarm tea and milk for Severus, Dumbledore sat back down on the couch. He held the latter drink up to Severus's mouth and encouraged the boy to drink it. Severus took a few tiny sips before pushing the cup away and opting to curl up on his father's lap.  
  
Dumbledore replaced the barely used cup and smiled at the dozing child. So peaceful despite what he had just gone through; so innocent, so fragile a life. He gently stroked the soft auburn hair and pulled Severus closer so that he was resting more fully against him; his most precious possession.  
  
Then he turned his mind on what to do now. How long he sat there thinking, he did not know. In the time that passed he thought up several plans and had dismissed each. It had been wishful thinking; there was only one way that he could save his child.  
  
Gently, so not to wake him, Dumbledore moved Severus off his lap on lay him down on the couch. After carefully tucking an old woolen blanket around him to keep him warm, Dumbledore moved into the only other room and cast a silencing spell and then a locking charm on the door.  
  
With a heavy heart, he ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head wildly to mess up it.  
  
Then he began the process of recalling the panic and fear he had felt before he had found Severus still alive, the moments after the killing curse and but before the appearance of his son. The moments when there was a real chance that his child was lost forever.  
  
There, he was shaking again; perfect.  
  
He started a fire and called for the Minister of Magic. Within seconds the white head appeared amid the flames and grinned cheerfully.  
  
"Albus old boy, there you are. We were wondering when-" Dumbledore didn't let the Minister finish and cut in sharply, his eyes wild with pain.  
  
"He's dead."  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
~Evil, ain't I? 


	5. The Stage is Set

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone and I don't make any money. Too bad for me.  
  
  
  
The Minister of Magic had been concerned that Albus Dumbledore hadn't contacted him right away after he returned home. But surely… Albus's words, so harshly forced out, made his blood freeze. No. He must have heard wrong. Albus surely didn't mean…  
  
Unbidden, the Wizard's son was called to mind. A somewhat shy little boy with a stubborn streak that mirrored his mother's and a quick intelligence for one so young. The Minister smiled shakily, his uneasiness building.  
  
"My friend, what do you mean?" The Minister tried to keep his voice steady. Dumbledore looked horrible, worse then he'd ever seen him. Something really bad must have happened. And to the boy. Oh gods!  
  
"I mean they killed him!" Dumbledore shouted, his eyes wild. The Minister trembled slightly, half out of fear that the very powerful, currently very deranged Wizard would do something drastic. He opened his mouth to reply but Dumbledore kept raging and cut him off.  
  
"He was only four years old. How could they do this?" The Minister realized that Dumbledore wasn't really speaking to him. Actually, the Wizard didn't seem to be aware of anything right now other then his intense grief.  
  
"You-you can't mean," the Minister stammered in denial. 'Murdered,' his muddled mind was yelling, 'He's telling you that Severus has been murdered.'  
  
"My baby, my poor baby," Dumbledore sobbed as he sank to his knees. "What did he ever do to deserve this? Damn them!" he screamed suddenly, making the Minister flinch. "Damn them all!"  
  
"Albus, please. This is a horrible thing to happen, but you need to calm down." Bloody Hell, Albus was losing it. Could this situation get any worse?  
  
"They killed the sitter too," Dumbledore said, wrapping his arms around his body. His eyes came up to meet the Minister's, silently begging for any explanation. "They were just children."  
  
"Albus, we'll send someone over to get you. Just don't go anywhere." The Minister's hope of keeping the Wizard contained died as Dumbledore laughed, such an empty sound.  
  
"I already left. I took Sev-" he stopped and shook his head, tears streaming from his eyes. "I can't say it. I can't say his name." The Minister made a mental note of that comment.  
  
"Then we'll go get the girl. We'll take her to her family,' the Minister tried to console his friend. Dumbledore looked up suddenly, an angry fire in his eyes that alarmed the Minster.  
  
"There are two men stunned in the boy's bedroom. They are the ones that killed him. I want you to bring the Dementors. They can have them when you are finished questioning them." The Minister of Magic paled. He didn't know what alarmed him more. The fact that the child's murders would not remain faceless shadows for much longer or the fact that Albus Dumbledore had just told him to send two people to the Dementors. Albus didn't approve of handing people over to the Dementors, usually, anyway.  
  
"How do you know they were the ones?" The Minister asked, no longer trying to hide his nervousness.  
  
"I saw them!" Dumbledore yelled, all dignity and control gone. "I got there too late. Just in time, though, to watch them cast that horrible spell." The Minister shook his head hopelessly. What could he say? Nothing could change this terrible, terrible event.  
  
"I-I'm sorry. If there's anything I can do?" Dumbledore brushed the offer away.  
  
"I buried him myself. I will not let them know where to find his g-grave." He buried his face in his hands and began to sob while the Minister looked on, uncertain what to do for his friend.  
  
"I need to be alone," Dumbledore whispered when he was able. His dull blue eyes drifted over to the Minister. "I will contact you when I have control over my emotions." The Minister opened his mouth to protest but the connection was terminated before he could say a word.  
  
Dumbledore sat there on the floor for a few minutes more before letting out a ragged sigh and climbed slowly to his feet. The stage was set.  
  
He could almost hear the Minister running down the hall from his office to alert the other people in the building. They would retrieve Tammi and take her to family. The two attackers would be interrogated; the Minister wouldn't wait for him to arrive.  
  
Then the Minister would tell the rest of the Ministry workers that Albus Dumbledore was on the verge of becoming seriously mentally unhinged and to never mention Severus again. As far as anyone was concerned, from this moment on Severus no longer had ever existed.  
  
And that was exactly what he wanted; for everyone to forget Severus so that he might grow up without having to watch his every step for assassins.  
  
Now he just had to complete the plan. Dumbledore wiped the tears from his face and flattened his hair back into place. This was the hard part; saying goodbye.  
  
He un-charmed the door and was surprised to find Severus standing just outside, his eyes wide with fear and damp from crying. Dumbledore instantly scooped him up and held him close until the soft weeping subsided.  
  
"I woke up. You were gone," Severus whispered forlornly. Dumbledore began to rock him gently and nodded.  
  
"I know, Severus. I had something to take care of. But I'm back. I'm here, little one." Severus sniffed twice and lay his head against his father's shoulder, immersing himself into the warm embrace.  
  
Dumbledore swallowed back a sob. This was so hard.  
  
"I love you, Severus," Dumbledore whispered desperately into the sleep- tangled hair before pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I will always love you." Severus sighed sleepily.  
  
"Love you too, Daddy," he whispered, nearly asleep. Dumbledore took a long moment to look at him, blazing the picture into his memory.  
  
Then he took out his wand. He paused a second before whispering a spell resilient to the normal stop-curse. In front of his eyes Severus's hair began to darken and the slight curl straightened out.  
  
Severus's eyes fluttered open just in time for Dumbledore to see the clear blue eyes cloud and become an inky black. But still watching him with loving trust.  
  
"Go to sleep," Dumbledore murmured softly to his child. "It is way past your bedtime." Severus nodded as his lips curved into a small smile. Yawning quietly he nestled a bit more comfortably and closed his eyes again, unaware of the changes that had taken place.  
  
Another spell was cast. This time it was the clothes the boy was wearing that were altered. The black robe accented the inherited thinness and made the purple bruises on his pale face stand out more. Then a sleeping spell that would keep Severus in a deep sleep for two hours.  
  
Dumbledore carefully placed his son back on the couch. Severus was completely out, his breathing easy and calm. The old blanket that had fallen to the floor was transformed into a black tablecloth and wrapped around the sleeping child. Now, to alter his own appearance.  
  
Dumbledore, always a master at transfiguration, turned himself into stern looking old man with thin white hair pulled sharply back into a ponytail. The black and white suit he was wearing gave evidence to a servant's position.  
  
Only one thing left. Bending over his child, Dumbledore cast one last charm. Severus whimpered softly but didn't wake as the memory charm wove its way through his mind, taking everything but the most basic skills.  
  
'What would he be left with?' Dumbledore wondered as a small frown appeared on the boy's face. Most likely his stubbornness, his temper, his quick mind, all together not the best combination of things. But what other option was there?  
  
"I'm so sorry," he whispered to Severus, gently stroking the raven hair way from his face. Then, carefully supporting his head, Dumbledore lifted his son off the couch and cradled him in his arms. This was it.  
  
Taking a deep breath to steady his resolve, Dumbledore apparated the two of them into Knockturn Alley. Few lights broke the gloom of the filthy streets but Dumbledore didn't dare light his wand. Rather, he aimed to hide in the darkness as he moved quickly in the shadows of aged buildings.  
  
Severus shivered as the cold night air hit his face and Dumbledore held him closer, hopelessly trying to warm the little body.  
  
A few mangy looking cats peered at them from a garbage pile but aside from that Dumbledore saw no one.  
  
He didn't stop walking until they reached a dilapidated, three story brick building. Several windows were broken and the yard was a mess but this was their destination; the Knockturn Alley Orphanage.  
  
Dumbledore slunk around to the back and kicked on the weather beaten door. A few minutes later there was the sound of a lock being undone and the door opened an inch for an old woman with piercing gray eyes to look out.  
  
She eyed Dumbledore with little interest and then shifted her gaze to the bundle in his arms. Her eyes narrowed and her discolored lips curled into a sneer.  
  
"No room," she snarled. Dumbledore put on an air of snobbish indifference and, shifting Severus to one arm, tossed a little black silk purse at the woman.  
  
"He's got a patron," Dumbledore snipped, playing the part of a snobbish English servant perfectly. The woman hefted the bag expertly and smiled a cold, toothless grin.  
  
"Maybe we got room then," she admitted, stepping outside and pulling a shawl around her shoulders. Dumbledore was not fooled. One of the orphans who didn't have someone paying for them would be kicked out to make more room.  
  
"So what's 'is story, heh?" the old woman asked peering at Severus's sleeping face. "Second son? Squib? Half blood bastard?" Dumbledore shook his head, let her think what she wished.  
  
"I'm just the delivery boy," he replied stiffly. The old woman shrugged.  
  
"It's none of my business," she cackled. "We 'ear and see everything but tell none."  
  
Deciding not to comment, Dumbledore merely nodded coolly and let her take Severus from him; immediately wanting to snatch him back, missing the warm weight of his son in his arms.  
  
"Snape, Severus. November 18, 1959," Dumbledore said taking back the tablecloth before the woman could try to keep it. Let her think it belonged to the household he worked for. She scowled, noticing his keeping the expensive looking piece of cloth and then looked down at the dark haired child, noting the wounds on his face.  
  
"You look like you 'ad a bad run in." She looked up to see the old man- servant's reaction but saw that he was already gone. She shrugged, in her lifetime she was used to all sorts of people. She certainly didn't expect him to hang around. If it was the mother who had dropped the brat off, maybe. But what did a servant care? Probably glad to see him evicted.  
  
"Well then, Severus, welcome to your new home." The child, secured in her rough hold moved slightly, whimpering, and she laughed softly at the evident unhappiness he expressed even in sleep. Then she turned and went inside, the heavy door slamming shut behind her.  
  
Dumbledore stood in the shadows and watched Severus disappear into the dark, foreboding building. "Be safe, dear child." Then he left. After all, he had an empty grave to dig.  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
  
  
Author's Note: Okay, I'm getting the hint from a certain Mystical Dragon that it's time to get back to the 'present' and see the reactions that Snape has to finding all this out. That is coming next week, I promise. 


	6. Reactions

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I don't make any money. This is what I do for fun. My friends are getting worried about me.  
  
  
  
The flow of hidden memories came to a stop and Snape rubbed his temples in vain.  
  
"My head hurts," he mumbled. It was too much to wrap his mind around. Everything he had known, everything he had been told for as long as he could remember, was a lie. Not abandoned, hidden. Not abused, attacked. Not detested, loved. Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard of the age, was his father.  
  
Oh boy, he wasn't in the mood to cope with this. It would be almost funny if it wasn't so serious. Hello, Severus isn't here right now, but leave a message with Fluffy and if you survive he might get back to you. Gods, he must be going insane.  
  
"Severus?" Snape looked up quickly, startled. Oh yes, the Headmaster was still in the room. And he looked worried. Snape suddenly felt the compelling urge to be alone. Anywhere would do, just so long as he wasn't there.  
  
"Sir," Snape said blandly, standing, "Would you excuse me?" Without waiting for an answer he crossed the room and disappeared into his bedroom, the slam of the door giving away his agitation.  
  
Dumbledore watched the younger wizard flee from the room and sighed sadly. Well, that answered his first question on how Severus was going to take any of this. He was dealing with it by not dealing.  
  
Dumbledore had expected a reaction that was something a bit louder, maybe some thrown furniture, but this was probably just as bad. If left to himself, Severus would push anything he was feeling into submission and ignore it. Rising from his chair, Dumbledore went over to the closed door and knocked.  
  
"Severus?" he called, listening carefully, "Severus, I want to talk to you."  
  
"Go Away," came the reply, slightly obscured by the door between them. Dumbledore paused, undecided between giving Snape his privacy and going in to check on him. Then Dumbledore shook his head. He had let this little masquerade last longer then it ever should have. It was going to end, now.  
  
He pushed open the door and slipped inside, closing it after him. Snape was lying stomach down on his bed, his face hidden in his arms. Dumbledore approached cautiously, not quite sure how to start. Snape would not be pleased with his intrusion.  
  
"Severus?" he asked again, softly, testing the water.  
  
"I thought I told you to leave me alone," Snape hissed, not bringing his head up. Dumbledore, not to be put off by poor manners, sat down on the bed next to him.  
  
"You did," he agreed admirably. Snape declined to reply other then a snort of disgust and Dumbledore allowed himself a very small smile. His child was being predictably difficult.  
  
"Severus," Dumbledore began again, "We really need to talk. Severus?" Dumbledore slowly reached out his hand to rest on Snape's head and instantly knew that he had made a mistake in touching him.  
  
Enraged, Snape threw himself up and off his bed with a snarl, away from the Headmaster. He was beyond agitated now. He was bordering on fury.  
  
"Don't touch me!" Snape yelled, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Do. Not. Touch Me." His eyes were burning like blue fire. Anger, confusion, hostility ran through his blood like poison.  
  
'I've lost him,' Dumbledore thought, his heart breaking. This man before him, his son, hated him. He could see it in his eyes. 'Oh Severus, what have I done to you?'  
  
"Why?" Snape demanded in a dangerously low voice, his body beginning to shake. Dumbledore didn't have to ask what he meant by 'why.'  
  
Slowly the Headmaster looked up and met the angry blue eyes. The truth, such a powerful thing; a dangerous thing. But he owed it to him. It was the least he could do.  
  
"It was the last place Voldermort would think to look for you. He was raised in an orphanage himself. He didn't believe I'd do that to you."  
  
Snape looked away sharply. His first thought was 'No shit," but that soon gave way to something else. He tried to push it away. He wanted to stay angry, damn it! Anger protected him, kept others from getting close.  
  
But this other feeling was too strong. It swelled up from his chest, washed over him like a wave, and he felt in danger of drowning.  
  
"You must be so ashamed of me," he whispered at last. Guilt, such harsh demeaning guilt. Why did the Headmaster have to turn out to be his father? The only person he had ever sought approval from. Merlin, why did he always have to let him down?  
  
Dumbledore blinked in surprise. That wasn't something he had expected to hear. He believed that Snape would blame him for everything that had gone wrong in his life. (After all, he blamed himself for his son's unhappiness) This was not anticipated.  
  
"Sorted into Slytherin, always in trouble, a Death Eater for Merlin's sake! I joined the very person you tired to keep me safe from," Snape continued to rant. He hated himself. Gods he hated himself.  
  
Dumbledore couldn't take his self-belittlement and stood. Snape caught the movement and fell silent, redirecting his eyes to the floor. Dumbledore took a few cautious steps closer.  
  
Oh how he longed to hold his son again, to assure him that everything was going to turn out right in the end; to promise that he'd never leave him alone again.  
  
"Severus, child," he started but Snape cut him off with a brief shake of his head. That endearment, so hauntingly familiar, he was not worth it.  
  
"Don't called me that," he ground out bitterly, "I don't deserve it." He was not the son the Headmaster should call his own. Dumbledore needed some golden Gryffindor who had not a cruel thought in his head or maybe a bright Ravenclaw with an amazing mind or a caring Huffelpuff with a gentle soul. Anyone but a bad tempered, sharp tongued Slytherin who would only tarnish a previously spotless name.  
  
"That is not true," Dumbledore said, anger seeping into his words. "You are my son, my only child. I don't care if you don't think you are entitled to my favor. Just let me assure you that you are."  
  
Snape heard the words but couldn't accept them. Years of living around corruption and darkness had made him a devoted skeptic.  
  
"Then why did you wait so long?" Snape challenged. "Hell, if I hadn't found out by accident…" he shook his head fiercely causing the soft auburn curls to spill over his eyes. Dumbledore fought the desire to push the stubborn locks out of young wizard's face and sighed.  
  
"When, Severus? When you entered Hogwarts you were too young to understand. When you left Hogwarts it was too dangerous. With Voldermort reeking havoc, I didn't want to risk sending you out into society with that knowledge. One slip and you would have been killed. After you came back to me? I knew then that I had failed you," Dumbledore forced the painful words out. The Truth, how he hated that phrase. It hurt so much to think about it, The Truth.  
  
"It was my job to keep you safe, keep you happy. I haven't told you because yes, I am ashamed. I am ashamed at myself for taking such poor care of you. You were, are, the most important thing in my life, and I let you down."  
  
Snape wordlessly shook his head, not knowing how to respond. How did one reply to that?  
  
Dumbledore pushed on with his narrative, acidly severe.  
  
"Then, cruelty of fate, you become the only link to Voldermort's inner circle and I have to send you to him or the Ministry has vowed to throw you into Azkaban."  
  
Snape visibly started. He hadn't been aware of that part of the agreement. But then, the idiots in the Ministry had probably forbidden that he find out.  
  
"I die every time you leave because of his summonings," Dumbledore finished with a tight hiss as he looked at the young man before him. His son was so darkly disappointed with his life. And he had been such a happy little boy, had showed such promise.  
  
The deep sorrow returned and with a defeated sigh, Dumbledore sat back down on the bed and looked at his hands. He felt so drained. "Oh gods, Severus, I'm so sorry."  
  
Snape watched the Wizard for a second. He looked so tired with his shoulders hunched in defeat. Sorry. A simple word. But it meant so much.  
  
"Don't be," Snape said, surprised at the words coming out of his mouth. By all forms of logic and reason he knew that he should be furious. But he couldn't. The anger, the insane rage; it wouldn't come.  
  
"You did the best you could, considering the situation." In his heart, he knew that it had been the only option. It still stung to remember his life at the orphanage, but at least he knew why he had been left there. That helped a little.  
  
Dumbledore looked at him something akin to disbelief reflecting in his eyes. Then a faint sparkle of hope. Slowly he held out his arms, invitingly.  
  
Snape paused. His normal response was to avoid all physical contact like the plague. Until he was six, he bit anyone who touched him even if it was an accident. Everyone had known well enough to leave him alone. Especially after he got his wand.  
  
But something else rang in his mind. He had used to like being held. He remembered that now. And his newly recalled memories didn't take kindly to being ignored. He thought he would like being held; he wanted to be held. Damn memories. Still, he found himself moving slowly closer until he was standing in front of the Headmaster.  
  
Carefully, so not to startle the skittish wizard away, Dumbledore pulled Snape down to him. Almost instinctively, Snape found himself curling close to the older wizard, his head tucked under his chin.  
  
Taking it as a good omen that Snape didn't protest to the closeness, Dumbledore slowly wrapped his arms around the young man. Snape stiffened a minute before letting the tension seep out of his body.  
  
Completely and strangely calm, Snape let his eyes flutter closed as he breathed in the familiar scent that had been imprinted on a young mind so long ago. Gentle fingers brushed his long hair out of his face and then moved reassuringly back around him. He felt safe, sheltered, protected.  
  
The two remained silent for some time; each lost in his own thoughts. Finally, it was Snape who broke the stillness.  
  
"Who else knows?" he murmured, his eyes opening slightly. Dumbledore shook his head. He had been very careful to keep anyone from even entertaining the idea that Severus Dumbledore and Severus Snape might be the same person.  
  
"No one," he answered, "Not even our House Elves. They ran and hid in the kitchens when the Death Eaters entered the house. They saw nothing." Snape moved his head in slight acknowledgement and fell silent again. But it was an uneasy stillness that Dumbledore felt radiating off the wizard.  
  
"What's wrong, Severus?" he asked quietly. Snape shut his eyes. He was almost afraid to ask.  
  
"What happens now," he said almost inaudibly. Then he sat up, pulling away slightly from the warmth. "Now that I know. Do you put the memory charm back on me and forget any of this ever happened." Dumbledore looked sorrowfully at him.  
  
"I have to alter your appearance again. I'm sorry Severus, but until Voldermort is defeated your true identity must remain a secret," he paused and the smiled thoughtfully, easing the panic that had spiked in Snape's chest.  
  
"But the memory charm," Dumbledore reached out to gently stroked the young man's cheek, "That is up to you." Tentatively, Snape leaned back against the Headmaster.  
  
"I don't want to forget," he whispered. Dumbledore smiled and hugged him a long second.  
  
"And I don't want to lose you again." Again they fell silent. Snape let his mind drift once more.  
  
Albus Dumbledore was his father. Okay. He was hidden after Death Eaters had nearly murdered him when he was four years old. All right. He had been notorious for eating dirt. Oouuch. That wasn't something he wanted to think about just yet.  
  
As the clock in the other room chimed eleven thirty he sighed and shifted to a more comfortable position. There was so much to sort through, so much he still didn't understand completely.  
  
After all, the clearest memories among those returned to him were from when he was four. The memories from when he was three years old were in fragments and anything under that were just feelings.  
  
"It's going to take a little while to get used to this," he informed his father softly. Dumbledore smiled gently and cuddled him closer against his body. Snape looked up slightly amused.  
  
"That's okay with me," the older wizard replied, happy. "Child."  
  
  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
  
  
Author's Note: Next chapter includes Lupin and Black. 


	7. Two Months Later

Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't own anyone. I don't make any money. I don't have a life…  
  
  
  
Two Months Later  
  
Remus Lupin pulled his cloak closer around his shoulders and shivered. The halls of Hogwarts, always cold in early February, were even more so at night. Personally, he would have much preferred to be in his *heated* room, asleep or reading.  
  
But no, he had hall patrol until two when Professor Vector would switch off with him. Still, at least he wasn't alone. Loping along at his side, with a coat of shaggy black fur to keep him warm, was Sirius Black; in his animagus form, of course.  
  
Black was still being hunted by the Ministry but Dumbledore had agreed to let him stay at Hogwarts. The only condition was that he was not to bother Snape. The Headmaster had been very adamant about this.  
  
Black had readily agreed (he preferred to pretend that Snape wasn't even in the castle) and was introduced in as Professor Lupin's pet. Lupin enjoyed having his friend around again, as did Harry.  
  
School started and the months had moved along easily. No one suspected the furry black dog and on the few occasions Snape and Black did have a chance meeting, they both ignored each other.  
  
But tonight, Black was in a particularly bad mood.  
  
After dinner Harry and his friends had stopped by to chat and amid the recap of the day recalled the twenty odd points that Snape had managed to take off Gryffindor during their Potions class, not to mention the usual verbal slurs.  
  
So it was no surprise that when Black and Lupin entered the library and saw Snape asleep at a table, his head resting in his arms and on one of the open books spread around him, Black began to growl.  
  
"Stop that," Lupin whispered to his doggy friend, "He'll hear you." Black silenced reluctantly. After all, a Snape asleep was a lot better then a Snape awake and cranky.  
  
Preferably dead, but who really believed in miracles?  
  
"Let's go," Lupin said, prodding Black with his foot, "No one is going to be here with him around." Black agreed with a nod of his big shaggy head and then froze. His sharp ears had picked up the sound footsteps approaching from the other direction.  
  
Lupin noticed how the ears perked up and moved forward. The two exchanged a quick glance and pressed closer to the towering bookcases, counting on the shadows to hide them from view.  
  
Between Black's acute hearing and Lupin's keen eyesight, there was no way a student would escape their notice.  
  
Then, to their surprise, it was Headmaster Dumbledore who appeared and approached the sleeping figure at the table, an amused smile on his face. Black and Lupin watched as the wizard came around Snape and gently shook him awake.  
  
Snape sat up slowly, blinking exhaustedly. He had been in the middle of doing research for a potion he was experimenting with and then…must have fallen asleep. He heard a soft laugh and realized that someone was with him.  
  
It couldn't be a student. Even his Slytherins, though not afraid of him, usually kept a respectful distance unless they had something they needed to talk to him about. A teacher then. And not too hard to make an educated guess on which one.  
  
He tilted his head back slightly and saw the kind blue eyes watching him. Snape smiled shyly up at the Headmaster, happy to see him even in his half asleep condition. Dumbledore returned the smile warmly and leaned over to talk to him.  
  
Black inched forward but he couldn't hear the conversation being exchanged between the two men. Well, whatever had been said, Dumbledore was pleased and pulled Snape out of his chair and to his feet.  
  
Snape yawned and stretched before running a tired hand though his hair. He could very easily go back to sleep. Even if he had to settle for the floor.  
  
Dumbledore had turned his attention to the books scattered on the table and was busy marking the pages that they had been opened to. He spared a glance back at Snape and noticed the dark eyes beginning to close again. He cast a quick levitating charm on the texts and nudged Snape forward, the books following obediently.  
  
As they disappeared out the far door, Black changed back and glared in their direction. Damn Death Eater. He didn't care what Dumbledore told him. He didn't trust Snape as far as he could hex him.  
  
"I hate him," he snapped, frustration coloring his words. The Headmaster was being played for a fool and there was bloody nothing he could do about it.  
  
Lupin shrugged and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. This wasn't an uncommon comment from his friend regarding Snape. He understood his friend's dislike for the Potions master; he just didn't completely agree with him.  
  
Snape, though obviously didn't care much for him, for the most part, treated him as he did the rest of the staff; with cool politeness or sarcasm.  
  
"It can't be helped, Padfoot," he said, using the old nickname to calm the irate man, "Dumbledore has a soft spot for him. I don't know why, but he does. Always has, and you aren't going to be able to change that."  
  
Black shrugged off the levelheaded, sensible words. He knew why. He just wasn't supposed to tell.  
  
"Come on," he said turning back to the hall, "If we're lucky we'll be able to find some slippery little Slytherin roaming around." Lupin sighed good- naturedly and followed the large black dog down the corridor.  
  
Dumbledore opened the door to Snape's personal quarters and herded the weary wizard inside. The books for the Potion master's research slipped around the two men to the crowded desk and somehow found a place to stack themselves.  
  
Snape tried to sink down onto his couch but had his hand caught by Dumbledore who kept him standing and redirected him towards his bedroom.  
  
"You need real sleep, Severus," Dumbledore lightly scolded, "Not a quick nap here and there." Snape yawned again and nodded, not in the mood to argue. The bed, the couch, the table, it was all the same to him.  
  
Snape slipped into his room, changed out of his robes quickly, put on his nightclothes, and snuggled into his bed. He had just made himself comfortable under the blankets when the door opened.  
  
Dumbledore stood silhouetted in the doorway, a washcloth in his hand. Snape raised his eyebrow in question. His father tried to hide a smile and came over to sit next to him.  
  
"You have ink marks on your face from the book," Dumbledore explained with a small grin. Snape really did look funny with the black lettering like tiny tattoos across his pale skin.  
  
Snape rolled his eyes in exasperation but let Dumbledore run the damp cloth over his face to get rid of the marks.  
  
"There," Dumbledore announced as he erased the last letters and pushed the dark hair away from Snape's eyes. "Perfect." Then he pulled the covers up to his son's neck and tucked the edges around him.  
  
Snape debated telling him that he didn't need to be treated like a baby and decided against it. He didn't really mind the attention. No, not at all.  
  
"Severus," Dumbledore said softly, knowing he was nearly asleep, "Will you be here tomorrow evening at eight? I want to talk to you." Snape nodded, sealing the promise into his memory.  
  
"I'll be here."  
  
"Good. Sleep well, child."  
  
"You too."  
  
  
  
***  
  
The next morning, Black was still in a foul mood. He even dared to growl at two First Year Slytherin girls in Snape's presence, earning a dark glare from the wizard as he assured his students that the dog wouldn't bite them. If the mutt did, he promised them that he'd personally see the mongrel dragged off to the vet to be 'fixed'.  
  
Black snarled at the Potions master but had never the less retreated to friendlier territory, cursing the man the entire way.  
  
He remained sulky through dinner and even the appearance of Harry, Ron, and Hermione could not drag him out of his aggravated state.  
  
Harry was concerned at his godfather's behavior. He had never seen Black like this before. The animagus was usually so laid back, he couldn't think what had happened to upset him.  
  
Harry repressed a frustrated sigh; he wasn't sure what to do. Finally, he settled for casting a concerned look in Lupin's direction.  
  
The Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor was one of his godfather's closest friends. He'd know what to do.  
  
Lupin saw the look Harry sent him and titled his head in silent question. Harry motioned over to where Black was sitting, a bit apart from the group. The werewolf sighed and set his teacup down firmly on the table.  
  
"Enough," he declared, turning to look back at his friend, "Sirius Black, what is the matter with you? You've been in a bad mood all day." Black blinked in surprise at the reprimanding words. Then he smiled tightly.  
  
He recognized that tone. It was the 'You are acting like a git stop it or I'll hex you with multiple cheering charms' tone of Lupin's from their school days. He hadn't heard that tone in a long time.  
  
Of course, the last time he heard it James hadn't snapped out of his gloom and doom mode quickly enough and Lupin had actually hexed him.  
  
Unfortunately, he cast the spell a little hard. James ended up giggling like a maniac for three days straight. They had always taken that tone seriously after that.  
  
"I'm being a prat. I'm sorry," Black admitted, moving closer to the others and excepting the cup of tea Harry handed him. Lupin nodded in exaggerated agreement, causing a real smile to finding its way to Black's lips. "I'm just aggravated."  
  
"About?" Hermione queried as she passed him the sugar tongs and instantly regretting her curiosity when his eyes darkened again.  
  
Black tapped the utensil against his cheek as he mulled over what to do. He knew it was practically a forbidden topic but, ah, what the hell. It would make for interesting conversation. And when had he ever been one to follow the rules?  
  
"Have you ever wondered why Dumbledore keeps Snape on the staff despite obvious indications that he's in league with Voldermort?" Lupin looked confused at the topic of choice and took a sip of his tea while he pondered his reply. Ron shuddered at the name while Hermione stirred her drink thoughtfully.  
  
But Harry shrugged and answered the question.  
  
"Dumbledore said that he trusts him." Black snorted in detest. The Headmaster trusted easily; that didn't count.  
  
And over the years Dumbledore was known to have very bad ideas from time to time.  
  
The theme of 'Think Pink' for the Halloween dance during his fifth year, for example, had been one.  
  
Letting Hagrid, ah, 'walk' Fluffy on the Quidditch field before a big match (did that monster leave some BIG droppings) had been another.  
  
But in Black's opinion, placing trust in Snape had to be the worst.  
  
"Did he tell you why he trusts him?" Black challenged his godson.  
  
Harry bit his lip and shook his head. The Headmaster hadn't told him that. And he had asked too. Black smirked triumphantly and leaned forward.  
  
"I'm going to tell you something," he began, lowering his voice, "that most people don't know or have been ordered to forget. I found out myself during the Christmas holidays of my First Year. This is what happened.  
  
My father and your grandfather, Harry, James' dad, both worked for the Ministry of Magic. Our two families always spent Christmas together. Anyway, after dinner we were discussing classes and happened to complain about an incident that had happened right before break. It involved Snape and several nasty hexes.  
  
Professor Kingsly, the Head of Gryffindor before McGonagal, had already left for Christmas. His family lived in Russia and he had gotten permission from Dumbledore to leave a few days early. Because of that, after Flinch broke us up, we were taken to the Headmaster to receive our punishment.  
  
Dumbledore listened to everyone's side of the story. James and I backed up each other's version of the events. Snape had been alone at the time; no other student, Slytherin or otherwise, had seen what happened.  
  
But in the end, Dumbledore chose the Snape's story over ours and gave us both a week of detention. Snape got off with a warning about fighting."  
  
"I remember that," Lupin said softly. "You and James fumed about it for weeks."  
  
"Did you start the fight?" Hermione broke in suddenly, looking sternly at Black. He brushed the accusation off. Who started the fight wasn't the point.  
  
"That doesn't matter. The fact is that he chose Snape, a lone Slytherin, over us Gryffindors. Needless to say, we were not pleased. My father heard us complaining and asked what the Slytherin's name was. He thought he might know his parents if they worked for the Ministry. When we told him that the creep's names was 'Severus,' my father suddenly turned very pale.  
  
Saying in a very grave tone that he had to talk to us, my father took James and I to the library and told us about the Headmaster's Severus." Ron scratched his head, thoroughly confused.  
  
"What?" Black's eyes gleamed madly. His audience was captivated, waiting for him to explain.  
  
"It turned out that Dumbledore had a son named Severus." Lupin grinned and shook his head. Black looked peeved at his reaction and Lupin coughed once to hide laughter.  
  
"You almost had me there, Padfoot old boy. But everyone knows that Albus Dumbledore doesn't have any children." Black glared at his friend.  
  
"He did so. His Severus was murdered when he was four years old." Hermione gasped and Ron placed his teacup shakily back on the table. Harry looked thoroughly shocked and Lupin paled.  
  
"Poor Dumbledore," Hermione whispered, cutting through the silence. "It must have been so hard for him to lose his son."  
  
"That's not my point," Black rushed on, "I'm talking about what happened six years later."  
  
"What happen?" Ron asked, his eyes wide. Black's grin was crocodilian; like a cat who has caught the rodent he has been tracking.  
  
"Severus Snape started Hogwarts and was sorted into Slytherin. What is the likely hood," Black said, leaning forward and lowering his voice to just above a whisper, "That another boy would start Hogwarts the year the dead child would have and happens to share a rather unique name?  
  
My father told us that Dumbledore went slightly mad after the death of his Severus. It was actually illegal to mention Severus Dumbledore in the Headmaster's presence for fear that he would lose all grip on reality. And then suddenly a scrawny little boy with the name Severus is sorted into Slytherin and just happens to be the same age?" Black shook his head, his dark hair flying back and forth.  
  
"I don't think so. Snape's real name is most likely not even Severus. He is probably the child of one of the two men who killed little Severus and his babysitter or another of Voldermort's early followers.  
  
They changed his name so that Dumbledore would notice him. And why not? Dad told us that Dumbledore got back too late to save his son, but just in time to watch the killing spell be cast.  
  
This Slytherin, marked to be evil but sharing the name of his son, he would be the Severus he saved."  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
  
  
Author's Note: Next time, why Dumbledore wanted to see Snape and an appearance by McGonagal. (No, she's not his mother) 


	8. Baby Bumblebee

Disclaimer: Same old story. I don't own anything, I don't own anyone. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother to keep putting this thing at the beginning. But then, if it keeps me safe from lawsuits. Author's Note: So this chapter took me awhile. It's bloody long (for me).  
  
  
  
Minerva McGonagall sighed heavily. She didn't know why she kept doing this. What good did it do? None, it only brought back painful memories. Painful, even though the memories themselves were joyous, because she wasn't allowed to share them.  
  
But it had become a tradition, one that she couldn't break. No, not even if she wanted to. If she did, it would be like agreeing to pretend that the wonderful little child never existed.  
  
Pretending that she never held him, a newborn baby, only two days old. Imagining that she had never heard him referring to her as the 'Kitty Lady.' Never seen his clear blue eyes sparkle with laughter while his father watched over him, so proud and full of love.  
  
She owed it both of them to remember that. Even if everyone else decided to forget, she would remember that he had loved him, loved him more then life itself.  
  
"Thank you, Hagrid." The sweet voice brought McGonagall back to the present and, shaking herself, she turned her attention back to the memory she was watching in her Pensive.  
  
The entire Hogwarts staff was sitting around a big table covered in brightly wrapped packages. A birthday party. No one had been required to come; they had wanted to be there.  
  
Sitting in the center of the laughter and controlled chaos, next to his father, was the child, grinning happily at the Grounds Keeper with a beautiful leather bound book of collected Fairy Tales in front of him.  
  
"Nothin' too good for our Severus," Hagrid chuckled, reaching over to ruffle the dark auburn hair that tumbled past the child's ears. "Happy Birthday." Severus giggled and pushed the big hand off as he repeated his thanks.  
  
McGonagall's attention shifted as she watched as her younger self pushed a present towards the boy, her cheeks flushed a light pink in happiness.  
  
"This is from me, dear." McGonagall watched as Severus opened the package to find a soft, plush bear with a red and white stripped ribbon tied around its neck. Severus looked it over from every angle, pet the fuzzy fur, and hugged it, much to the amusement of the other teachers.  
  
"I'll call him Spot," he announced, quite pleased with the bear.  
  
"Why Spot?" asked one of the staff members, deciding not to point out that the bear was one solid color of chocolate brown. Severus looked quizzically at the teacher.  
  
"He looks like a Spot," the boy answered matter-a-factually, earning another round of laughs from the adults. He turned a charming smile back to the Transfiguration Professor.  
  
"Thank you, 'Nerva." McGonagall sniffed back tears as she heard herself reply, "You're most welcome, Severus."  
  
McGonagall watched the party continue. Everyone was laughing and having a wonderful time. Cake was served along with seven different flavors of ice cream. Severus insisted on trying each and discovered that he didn't care for three of them. He was just getting a little overwhelmed by the party and noise when Dumbledore stood up, smiling secretively. The chatter ceased instantly.  
  
"I have one more gift for Severus," Dumbledore began, "It was given to me by my father who had received it from his father and it was meant for me to pass onto my own child." He rested one hand gently on his son's shoulder. Severus tilted his head back to see his father's face. Dumbledore smiled and continued.  
  
"He's three years old today. Old enough not to know that certain things are not to be swallowed." The staff laughed again as Severus grinned sheepishly, remembering what had happened earlier that week.  
  
"Looked like candy," the boy protested in his defense with a small pout.  
  
"Yes," his father agreed, "But it took us four hours to get you down from the ceiling." He leaned forward, wrapping one arm around the little boy and kissed his soft cheek.  
  
"Happy Birthday, Severus." As he said this, Dumbledore placed a small box in front of the boy. Severus set to work and pried it open his fingers.  
  
Dumbledore reached around him and brought the gift out of its case. A low murmur traveled through the adults seated at the table.  
  
It was a chain made of a fine, magical silver; as thin and delicate looking as a strand of spider silk but stronger then steal. And dangling in the center was a tiny little charm. Severus starred at it in wonder; hesitantly reaching out to touch the hanging charm as it gleamed when the light caught it from different angles.  
  
"Our family name means 'bumblebee,'" Dumbledore explained to Severus as he moved the ends of the chain behind the boy's neck and fastened the clasp under his hair.  
  
"Whenever you wear this, let it remind you who you are and where you come from. Family is forever, Severus. Nothing can ever change that. You are my son, Severus, and I love you so much." Severus held the little sliver bumblebee charm on his palm for a minute and then turned and launched himself into his father's arms.  
  
"Love you," the child whispered, holding on tightly. Dumbledore smiled and hugged him close while gently stroking the silky hair.  
  
"Oh Severus," Dumbledore chuckled softly, "I don't know what I'd do without you."  
  
McGonagall quelled a sob rising in her throat and turned away sharply; she couldn't watch them together. In all the world, they had only needed each other. They had been practically inseparable.  
  
Even more so after Sabra left. Dumbledore, who before their separation had returned to his wife and son every evening after dinner, decided that he didn't want his son to be raised by House Elves and brought him to the school to be with him.  
  
Spending every weekday at the school excepting holidays, Hogwarts had become a second home for the boy.  
  
There had been a little concern over having Severus live at Hogwarts, but the staff had taken instantly to the blue eyed child who looked shyly out at them from his father's arms; even Filch's gruffness softened when the boy smiled.  
  
Severus had been a joy, a blessing. And Dumbledore was never as happy as he was when Severus was with him.  
  
But then, everything changed when Severus died. As horrible as the shock was when they got the news in an emergency meeting, the Headmaster himself disappeared for a month without out a trace not leaving so much as a letter telling when he'd be back.  
  
Then one morning, he just showed up at the Head Table for breakfast. He greeted the shocked staff cheerfully, asking who had won the Ravenclaw/Gryffindor Quidditch match while he had been away.  
  
He seemed almost normal, chatting with them like nothing had happened. If only his eyes didn't sparkle so bright or his laughter ring so loud.  
  
McGonagall remembered her first thought when she saw him sitting there, overly happy, had been 'is he mad?' To this day, the question still lurked in the back of her mind.  
  
Severus wasn't discussed. No one told him they were sorry for his terrible loss. They had been warned by the Minister himself not to mention Severus to the Headmaster and the topic seemed so taboo that they didn't bring it up even among themselves. Just in case they should slip on accident.  
  
They had been very careful, but there had been an incident nearly a month after Dumbledore had returned. McGonagall remembered it very well; it was her fault.  
  
The Headmaster had come to the Transfiguration classroom to discuss a student who was having trouble changing animals into objects. They were talking over ways to help the student and everything was fine.  
  
That is, it was until he saw the picture that she always kept on her desk. It was a picture of Severus taken only five months earlier. He was laying on the floor, a very young Mrs. Norris on top of his head, looking up at the camera, and grinning. McGonagall couldn't bring herself to get rid of it. She still had it, hidden away where no one would find it.  
  
But it wasn't hidden that day and when Dumbledore saw it he suddenly became deadly silent.  
  
McGonagall realized, with a feeling of deep horror, what he was looking at and quickly reached over to grab the picture and shove it into a drawer.  
  
Dumbledore shook off the spell that the picture of his only child had cast and stood angrily. McGonagall found herself on the receiving end of a truly terrifying glare and found herself a little afraid of him; she had never seen him so full of bitterness.  
  
"If I ever see pictures of him again," Dumbledore hissed, startling McGonagall with his barely concealed rage, "I will do everything in my power to see that the holder is fired!" He turned on his heal and stormed out of the room leaving McGonagall stunned in disbelief.  
  
Then, after allowing herself a few tears over realizing just how much her friend was suffering, she had hurried off to tell the rest of the teachers the warning she had received.  
  
After that things calmed down for awhile. Life went on and the staff had just about healed the hole the loss of such an innocent life had left.  
  
And then the other Severus entered their lives.  
  
McGonagall frowned, remembering the look of delighted surprise that lit the Headmaster's face when a child with the name 'Severus' had been called at the sorting.  
  
Sorted into Slytherin, the staff had formed an instant dislike to the boy. Except Filch. Filch had no problem with accepting Severus Snape.  
  
The worst was Dumbledore. He became instantly attached to Snape. It was as though he couldn't see the difference between the son he lost and the young Slytherin with the same name.  
  
It was harder on the staff then the Headmaster, having another Severus around. It had taken McGonagall herself many years to accept that Snape was his own person. He wasn't trying to replace their Severus; he couldn't help having his name, he hadn't chosen it.  
  
Still, for the longest time she had resented the fact that his very name reminded her of the one who had been lost. It had only been time that forced her to forgive him for something he couldn't control.  
  
Yet, there had been two children with the same name. Why did it have to be the so one full of light and goodness that died? Why couldn't it have been the dark, wretched, cold Slytherin boy?  
  
Then McGonagall shook her head sharply. That wasn't the right way to think. Being in Slytherin did not make one evil. And Snape had tried (and was still trying) very hard to make up for the mistakes of his past.  
  
Nevertheless, wouldn't the Dumbledore child have made more of his life then Snape had?  
  
***  
  
Dumbledore reached the door to the Potion Master's quarters and let himself in. A quick glance around the room revealed Snape stretched out on the couch, reading.  
  
"You're late," Snape said in greeting, not looking up from his book. Dumbledore checked his watch and then the clock on the table. That was odd. He checked his watch again and the looked back over at Snape, who was still ignoring him.  
  
"I'm not late," he countered, coming around the couch and pushing Snape's feet off so that he could sit down. "Your clock is fast." Snape now turned from the book to look at his father, his eyes glittering mischievously.  
  
"So are all the clocks in the Slytherin dorms. How else do you expect me to get them to class on time?" He had put up with their tardiness for three years before he had come up with that solution. As a result, fewer Slytherins got points taken off for being late to other Professors' classes. Most of the students figured that the clocks were wrong by their Third Year, but they still followed that time instead of the normal school schedule.  
  
Dumbledore laughed and reached over to tug affectionately at the dark hair. Clever, very clever. He never would have guessed why the Slytherins had the lowest number of late students to class ten years running.  
  
"Minerva might say that you're cheating," he warned teasingly. Snape shook his head and sat up, sneering.  
  
"It's only cheating if I make the clocks in the Gyffindor tower run slow." Dumbledore chuckled and gave his son a sideways hug.  
  
"How about I call down tea?" Dumbledore asked, releasing Snape. The Potions Master nodded.  
  
"That would be nice," he agreed as he reached for a bookmark. Curious, Dumbledore plucked the book about of his hands and turned it over to see the title.  
  
"A Tale of Two Cities," he read aloud. He had read it himself years ago. "A good book." Snape nodded and got up to return it to the bookshelf.  
  
"I like it," he agreed. Dumbledore smiled and got up to call the House Elves. They responded quickly and in no time the tea tray appeared. Dumbledore fixed two cups of tea while Snape wandered back to the couch. He accepted the offered cup with a smile and took a sip. Green tea with a little honey.  
  
They sat easily silent for awhile, just enjoying each other's presence. Snape recalled that there was a reason for their meeting but was content to wait until it was brought up. Dumbledore added a little more tea to each cup and leaned back, a small smile lighting his face.  
  
"Today is February 5th," he stated obviously. Snape nodded, unsure where the conversation was going. He never knew what to expect from the Headmaster.  
  
"So it is," he agreed cautiously.  
  
"Does it mean anything to you?" Dumbledore asked in unpressing tones. Snape thought carefully, digging through his mind. Something flashed briefly but then was gone as suddenly as it came. He reached for it again but it slipped away, avoiding capture. Finally he sighed and shook his head.  
  
"I know it's important, I just can't remember why." The memory was associated with light and happiness; not uncommon feelings to his early childhood. He gave his father a small smile. He wished he could remember. "Must mean I'm getting old if I'm having lapses in memory." Dumbledore's smile grew wider.  
  
"You're younger then you think, child." Snape starred at him a few seconds, pondering what he made meant by that statement. Then he understood. He had just needed a clue.  
  
"I wasn't born in November, was I?" he asked softly, not really a question. Dumbledore shook his head and pulled Snape closer to him. He hadn't given the woman at the orphanage the correct day his son had been born. It was safer that way. But there was no harm in Severus knowing the truth now.  
  
"February 5th, three twenty one in the morning. And six days early. Impatient, as usual. But oh," his voice dropped to a soft whisper, "What a scare you gave us." Snape leaned against him and Dumbledore put a grateful arm around him.  
  
"What happened?" Snape asked subduedly. He had never heard about his birth. And it didn't sound as though it had been an easy one.  
  
"You weren't breathing," Dumbledore replied solemnly, not liking to recall this particular memory. Next to that terrible night he had given his son away to protect his life, it was the most fearful he had ever been. "They took you and began trying to save your life. They wouldn't tell me what was wrong. And they wouldn't answer any of my questions. They wouldn't even tell me if my baby was a boy or girl. For a few terrible moments, I thought that you were going to die before I even got to meet you. And then," he paused.  
  
"Then?" Snape urged, interested in the story. Dumbledore smiled at the child-like eagerness.  
  
"And then you began to cry. Scream, really. I have never been so relieved to hear such a noise." Snape smirked, but not unkindly. "They cleaned you up and gave you to me. You were fussing terribly. But I can honestly say," he pulled back slightly to see Snape's face, "That you, wrapped up in that blanket, squirming, and red, you were the most beautiful, the most amazing thing I have ever had the privilege to see. My beautiful little child." Snape blushed slightly and turned away, almost shyly. Dumbledore coaxed his eyes back and held a up glittering chain.  
  
"Do you remember this?" His voice was soft and warm. Snape's eyes widened in surprise. Words echoed in his memory and he remembered the significance.  
  
"You can't give that to me," he whispered, his eyes never leaving the dangling charm. Some part of him that wouldn't resign to being silent still didn't believe he deserved to be called the only child of the great Albus Dumbledore. But Dumbledore knew this and pressed on confidently without hesitation.  
  
"I'm not giving it to you," Dumbledore replied calmly as he fastened the clasp around the Potion Master's neck and let the charm drop to rest against his chest. "I'm returning it to you." Snape cradled the silver bumblebee charm on his palm like a precious treasure.  
  
"I don't know what to say," he murmured as he lifted his eyes, soft with gratitude. Dumbledore smiled kindly and hugged him close; his treasure. Snape closed his eyes and rested his head against the comforting shoulder.  
  
"You don't need to say anything," Dumbledore replied softly. "Just be careful. There are still people who would recognize that charm for what it is." Snape didn't even pretend to look offended. He knew how very serious it was that no one see the chain once again hanging around his neck. He had a family again; he wasn't about to jeopardize it.  
  
"I'll be careful. I promise."  
  
  
  
Author's Note: Who here can tell that I love irony? Next up: The Dream Team does some investigating and Black is on surveillance. 


	9. Lacking Evidence

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Nope, not me. Wish I did.  
  
  
  
Snape touched his collar to check for what seemed the hundredth time that the chain around his neck was safely out of sight under his clothes. Of course, it was. If he wasn't careful, this was going to become a nervous habit.  
  
Dropping his hand to his side, he chided himself for being paranoid. The chain and charm were presumed destroyed or buried with his supposedly dead body. There was no possible way anyone was actually going to be looking for it. And even if someone did see it, there was a very good chance that they wouldn't understand its significance.  
  
Still, it wasn't a chance he wanted to take. His father had promised that whether the memory charm was recast would be his own decision, but Snape had a nagging feeling that if the Headmaster thought the memories were putting his son's life in jeopardy, he would replace the charm without asking consent. Snape shook his head and leaned against the wall. He couldn't endure loosing everything again.  
  
'All right,' he scolded himself, 'Stop wasting time. You promised that you'd be there. Breakfast.' With a martyred sigh, he tooled his face into neutrality and made his way into the Main Hall.  
  
Snape looked at the Head Table and was pleased to see that the Headmaster had succeeded in saving him a seat. It was part of the deal. If he came to the table for breakfast or dinner, his father would keep his seat for him.  
  
Giving his father a nod to show that he was coming, Snape moved past the student tables, stopping briefly to talk with several of his Slytherins and break up what was nearing a food-fight between the third and fourth years. He was almost past the tables when he suddenly paused. He could feel someone watching him.  
  
Whirling around he saw Potter, Weasley, and Granger quickly return to their breakfasts with startled haste, trying to act innocent. Snape was not fooled for an instant and came up behind them, his arms crossed over his chest.  
  
"Is something wrong?" he asked in a low, dangerous voice. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with the over-privileged Gryffindor brats this early in the morning. Potter turned around slowly and shook his head.  
  
"No, Professor," he insisted, not quite meeting his eyes. Snape wondered idly if he could take points off Gryffindor for lying to a teacher if said teacher couldn't actually prove that he had been lied to. Deciding it wasn't something he was interested in finding out at the moment, he opted to let it drop. He could always check on it later.  
  
"Very well." Snape continued his walk to the table and sat in his chair next to the Headmaster who greeted him cheerfully before lowering his voice to more serious conversation.  
  
"What was that all about?" Dumbledore asked, meaning the interaction with the Gryffindor students. Snape shook his head and looked back at the Gryffindor table.  
  
There had been something amiss about the way they had been looking at him. It wasn't the normal 'Gryffindor hates the ugly, biased, greasy-haired git, Potion's Master, Head of Slytherin bastard.' There had been something else there. Something he couldn't place.  
  
"I'm not sure."  
  
Harry sighed and rubbed at his eyes. He didn't know what to think. Despite how trusting was Dumbledore was, Harry couldn't believe that he would completely ignore a potential danger to the safety of Hogwarts and the students. But there he was, sitting next to Snape, talking about who knows what. It could be anything from Quidditch (unlikely as that seemed) to charms used to protect the school grounds.  
  
But then, how right was Sirius about Snape being a threat? Snape was certainly crafty. And he wouldn't put anything past him. But if he was loyal to Dumbledore, he had the ability to be a great ally. Then again, he was a Slytherin and that kind only look out for themselves. And he had already showed that he had little qualms about switching loyalties.  
  
"Does Snape always sit next to the Headmaster?" Harry asked as he watched Dumbledore pass a pitcher to Snape. Hermione shook her fluffy head, narrowly avoiding the strawberry jam.  
  
"I don't know. I know I've seen them sit together before. But I'm not sure how often." Ron waved his hands wildly to get their attention and quickly swallowed a mouthful of corn flakes.  
  
"Snape usually sits on Dumbledore's left. That's his preference. If one of the other Professors takes that, then he'll be on McGonagall's right. If he's not in either of those places he'll be in whatever seat was open when he came in. He never sits in the first seat on Dumbledore's right. That's Professor McGonagall's seat. She always sits there and no one even thinks of taking it without her permission." Hermione and Harry stared at Ron as he shoved two sausages into his mouth. He looked back up at them.  
  
"W'ot?" he barely managed through his overflowing mouth.  
  
"Besides the fact that your eating habits are bordering on crude, how do you know Snape's favored seating arrangement?" Hermione asked, eyeing Ron carefully. Ron picked over the rasher of bacon and smiled proudly.  
  
"My brothers did an extensive study on it their first year here. Just in case they should ever want to place something in his food or a dung bomb under his chair or." Ron slowly trailed off and Harry realized that there was something his friend was leaving out.  
  
"And?" he pressed, "Did they ever use the information they gathered. Ron smirked.  
  
"Yes. Unfortunately, that was one of the few times Snape took a random seat. But they had already set the prank up." Hermione's eyes grew wider. With the twins, she could only imagine what the prank was.  
  
"What happened?" Ron laughed, remembering the pictures that Fred had taken.  
  
"Then entire tray of mashed potatoes for the left side of the table blew up and covered Professor Flitwick. He looked like a miniature snowman. Well, a melting one anyway." Hermione covered her mouth, trying not to laugh aloud while Harry snickered. Ron grinned and continued,  
  
"The teachers figured, correctly, that Fred and George had been after Professor Snape and they got three months of detention with Filch. Plus a really nasty Howler from Mum," he added with a slight wince. "They never tried it again." Hermione nodded her approval. As funny as the story was, she wasn't about to openly approve of the pranks Ron's brothers played. It would ruin her reputation.  
  
"Good. It's not a good idea to douse teachers in food. Especially after all the work the poor House Elves did," she added to Harry who was trying to hide a smile. Ron rolled his eyes.  
  
"Not that again," he complained. Hermione's head snapped back around. "What did you say?" she demanded. Ron blinked innocently. Like he was really going to repeat it.  
  
"Nothing, nothing at all," he insisted. "Oh look, kippers."  
  
"Well," Hermione began again when they were on their way to their first class of the day, "We obviously need more information. No offence meant, Harry," she looked at her friend to watch his reaction, "But Snuffles isn't the most objective person. And while I don't doubt that he did at one time exist, to understand Snape's role in all of this we need to talk to someone who taught here when Dumbledore's son was still alive." Ron winced. He didn't like the gleam in her eye. That was always a bad thing.  
  
"And that means?" Hermione grinned. Ron and Harry exchanged horrified glances. "We are going to the Library." Ron groaned and rolled his eyes.  
  
"I was afraid you were going to say that."  
  
A week later, Hermione was very frustrated. She had always been able to get answers she needed form the Hogwarts Library. But this time.  
  
"Nothing," she declared as she closed another book, sending up a small puff of dust. "These texts don't tell us anything." Hermione, Ron, and Harry were in the library surrounded by the rarely looked at Recorded Years. Other then an off chance that a Ravenclaw might have been curious, no one, except perhaps a professor who had written one, ever read the books.  
  
Every year, one teacher was put in charge of writing down what happened during the school term. Hermione, Ron, and Harry had pulled ten years worth of books around the years Severus had been alive (using Sirius's birthday as a reference point), but in all the books they had looked though, there was no mention of Severus or his death.  
  
"You'd think it was important enough to write down," Hermione growled as she pulled another book toward her and flipped through it.  
  
"That's too far," Ron said, looking at the years stamped on the old cover. "He was dead by then." Hermione glared at him and threw the book down on the table.  
  
"I just don't understand," she cradled her head in her hands. "It doesn't make any sense." Harry looked over the pile of books and pulled one out and handed it to her. He knew this little set back wasn't about to stop her.  
  
"This is the shortest. Do want to go through it again or shall I?" Hermione suddenly froze. Very slowly she raised her head and reached out for the book, turning it over to check the date.  
  
"Why not," she said aloud, her eyes seeing past the book. She dropped it onto the table and quickly arranged the other books in order of their dates.  
  
"There," she said proudly. Harry and Ron looked down at the books and then back at the smiling girl.  
  
"There what?" Ron asked, voicing the confusion they both felt. Hermione rolled her eyes and pulled forward the books from the middle of the row.  
  
"Look at the difference," she insisted. "These records," she emphasized, "Were written right around the time Severus was alive. And they are much shorter then any of the others." Harry picked up the one farthest left and compared it to one Hermione had picked out. She was right.  
  
"And look," Hermione continued. She flipped the closest book open and palmed through it before stopping and running her finger down the crease. "Pages have been torn out." Harry sighed and ran a tried hand through his messy hair. Just how many obstacles were they going to hit?  
  
"Someone worked very hard to erase this kid's life." Ron nodded and sneezed from all the dust Hermione was creating by throwing old books around. It was like any hard evidence had been systematically deleted.  
  
"So, now what do we do?" Hermione pulled three sheets of parchment from her book bag and passed them around. Then she gave each of her friends a book from the ones she had isolated.  
  
"We look for the names of Professors who were here then, and still teach here now."  
  
Snape looked up suddenly as the clock on the table began to chime eleven. He had no idea it had gotten so late. Yawning and stretching, he dog-eared his place in the book (his bookmark had been misplaced earlier) right where he had left off-where Mr. Lorry warned Charles Darnay against returning to France.  
  
Snape slipped into his bedroom, set out sleepwear, and snagged his comb off the dresser. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and went into the bathroom. A quick spell and the comb was untangling his hair on its own while he brushed his teeth.  
  
As he rinsed the brush he paused to look at his reflection. If he tried hard enough, he could almost see himself as he was without the spell that was cast over him and darkened his hair and eyes. Then he sighed and looked away.  
  
"At least they can't call me cute anymore." Not even with the spell lifted was he 'cute' material. Life had been too cruel to him.  
  
Shelving his thoughts, Snape plucked the comb out of the air and set it down on the sink. He turned to go when a sudden pain flared on his left arm and he clutched it convulsively.  
  
"Speak of the Devil," he ground out through clenched teeth. So much for sleep. But then, evil never rests. And he has a tendency to keep everyone else up.  
  
Snape quickly went back to his room, trying to unclasp the chain around his neck as he went. But his hands were shaking too hard for him to get it while he was moving. He had to stop and fiddle with it for a few seconds before it finally came off in his hand.  
  
Looking around his room, he opened a drawer a hid the chain and its charm under some clothes. It wasn't the safest place, but he didn't have time to look for somewhere else to put it. Hopefully no one would be going through his things anytime soon.  
  
Entering the main living space again, he rang for a House Elf.  
  
"What would Professor Snape be liking?" the little creature squeaked in an annoying high-pitched voice as it appeared, bouncing on its feet.  
  
'Oddly dressed little thing,' Snape thought to himself as he idly rubbed at the Dark Mark that was burning under his sleeve, trying to ease the pain. 'Must has gotten tired of the tea towel.'  
  
"Would you kindly tell Headmaster Dumbledore that I have gone out?" The House Elf blinked his large green eyes and glanced at the clock. Snape paused in putting on his cloak and raised an eyebrow in question.  
  
"Its being very late, sir. Headmaster sir will be asleep," the Elf replied in what he seemed to think sounded reasonable. But the titled squeak betrayed his reluctance to bother the sleeping wizard.  
  
"I don't care," Snape snapped sharply, closing the silver fastenings on his cloak and tucking his wand up his sleeve. "Tell him anyway." The House Elf sighed and nodded, his ears lowering in agreement.  
  
"Yes sir. Dobby will tell Headmaster sir that Professor Snape sir is going out." Then he popped out of the room to do as he was asked.  
  
"Thank you," Snape said sarcastically to the space the House Elf had vacated. He pulled the heavy black cloth of his cloak closely around his shoulders and hurried out the door, locking it firmly behind him.  
  
He didn't want to go. Every fiber of his body was telling him not to go. To run upstairs to the Headmaster, to hide and huddle against his father who would stroke his hair and assure him that he was safe.  
  
But no, he couldn't let himself be the frightened child. Voldermort was calling. And, as the Light's only spy in the Dark Lord's inner ring, he really had no choice. It was his job to protect the school and the students.  
  
And he took his job very seriously.  
  
Black had grounds patrol. It would have been more fun if Lupin would have come with him. But the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor couldn't be conjoled into leaving his room or his bed where he had been sleeping when Black burst in. He had thrown a pillow across the room at the Animagus to emphasize his opinion to going outside into the cold.  
  
What a grouchy git.  
  
Black had just completed his third circle all the way around the castle, having seen Hagrid on one of those rounds before the big man trudged into the forest with Fang, when he saw someone dressed in black come hurrying down the walk. They appeared to be in a great hurry.  
  
'Interesting,' Black thought to himself. He ran through across the field, being careful to stay out of the person's direct line of sight. A large black dog playing spy-man would obviously trigger suspicion.  
  
As the person turned slightly, Black realized with a low growl that he was trailing Snape. Wherever the damn Death Eater was going, it couldn't be good. He would follow.  
  
Snape disappeared into the Forbidden Forest, Black close behind. As they moved deep into the trees, Black shook his head to dislodge the snow that accumulated there and looked behind him. Both sets of prints, one human and the other canine, would soon be covered as the snow fell harder.  
  
Suddenly, Snape stopped. Black ducked behind a tree and watched as Snape put his right hand over his left arm and, with a soft murmur, disapparated. With a dissatisfied grunt, Black made himself comfortable on the snow, curling up to preserve heat.  
  
He would wait until Snape returned.  
  
Dumbledore's favorite or not, he would not let Snape return to Hogwarts. In order to keep his godson and Harry's friends safe, he really had no choice. It was his job to protect the school and its students.  
  
And he took his job very seriously.  
  
  
  
Author's Note: I almost forgot. Special thanks to H.L.B. for helping me with Mrs. Dumbledore's first name. According to H.L.B.'s source, 'Sabra' is Hebrew for 'thorny cactus.'  
  
Next: What! And give away the surprise? 


	10. Returning

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Well, I do however own a copy of 'The Producers' if you're in the mood for a laugh. Oh, scratch that. It belongs to my sister.  
  
Note: Language Black!  
  
  
  
It was probably around four in the morning when Black, with only his nose sticking out from the mound of snow that had fallen, heard the slight popping sound signaling Snape's return. Shaking off the white blanket of snow, he looked up just in time to see Snape waver unsteadily on his feet and crumple to the ground.  
  
Black stared for a second, expecting Snape to stand up. But he didn't move. This was an unexpected complication. But it wasn't going to stop him from accomplishing his goal. Snape was dangerous; he'd have to proceed carefully if he wanted to succeed in killing the bastard.  
  
Slinking closer, Black cautiously approached the still figure. Snape moved a little, making Black jump back, his dark fur on end, every muscle tense and alert. But Snape only pulled his legs closer to his body, curling into a fetal position.  
  
Now Black could smell the blood on him. And he doubted that all of it belonged to Snape. Black leaned closer and noticed that an area of snow around Snape had turned an icy pink and seemed to be darkening steadily.  
  
Now was his chance. And, he reflected, it wouldn't even be difficult. Snape wasn't in any condition to put up a fight. All he needed to do was move in, tear the Slytherin's throat out, then stand back and let him bleed to death.  
  
Black stepped closer, baring his long white teeth, and stopped. This wasn't how he had envisioned killing Snape. It was supposed to be different; a sort of good verses evil thing. He would call on his Auror training, Snape would use what he learned as a Death Eater, and they would duke it out.  
  
This wasn't that heroic battle that he had envisioned. Here Snape was completely helpless. Black admitted to himself that he wasn't even sure if Snape was conscious.  
  
But that wasn't going to stop him. Though, maybe it would be easier to just end this with the Killing Curse. Not as messy.  
  
Black transformed back and removed his new wand from its place up his sleeve. 'All right.'  
  
Three minutes later he was still there, wand out and held over the bleeding Slytherin.  
  
'As soon as you do this,' a nasty little voice in his head reminded him, 'You will be a murderer.' Black shuddered involuntarily. That word was the bane of his existence. Even when he had been an Auror, he had never taken a life.  
  
And for so long he had longed to tell the Wizarding World that Peter, Wormtail, was the true traitor and so murderer of the Potters. He was still waiting for the day everyone would know he was innocent. Now the title would truly belong to him.  
  
"It's just Snape," Black said aloud, his voice barely louder then rustling leaves, "It's not like anyone will miss him." Well, that wasn't completely true. Dumbledore was foolishly fond of him. And McGonagall didn't see to mind him. Filch and his damn cat were down right friendly towards him. Hagrid didn't like to speak poorly of him. And even Madams Pomfrey and Pince were okay with having him around. Not to mention the entire Slytherin House.  
  
"He's a Slytherin!" Black shouted, surprising himself with the hatred he felt, almost overwhelming in its power. "He's just a bloody, fucking Slytherin!"  
  
Snape jerked sharply, as if sensing danger, and opened his eyes a little, not really seeing the person kneeling over him.  
  
"I have to do it," Black hissed with conviction, "For Harry." But then, Harry already felt guilty about Cedric's death. The boy wouldn't want anyone else dead because of him. No, not even Snape.  
  
Black sighed and sat back on his heals, pondering what to do and what was holding him back when he heard a long howl answered by a higher hitched individual and then a chorus of others. Wolves. Real wolves too, not werewolves.  
  
Black looked down at Snape and transformed back into his dog form. Providence! He wouldn't have to do anything; the creatures of the forest would do his job for him.  
  
The melody of howls came closer and Black edged away from Snape so not to seem a challenge to the wolves. They were getting closer. A husky bark came from just around a group of trees. Wait, bark?  
  
Fang dashed forward and sniffed the fallen professor. Then he lifted his massive head, twisted it back to the trees he had just emerged from, and barked again.  
  
"Professor Snape?" Black ducked behind a gnarled tree and watched as Hagrid came into view and hurried to Snape's side. Hagrid quickly checked Snape's pulse, getting blood on his hands in the process.  
  
"Not good," Black heard Hagrid mutter to himself. Then Black watched his chance to get rid of Snape once and for all slip away as Hagrid picked Snape up off the ground with surprising gentleness for someone his size and carry him back towards Hogwarts.  
  
Black looked at the red stain left on the snow and then at the retreating figures. And somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled at the loss of a meal  
  
Hagrid didn't have any medical experiences aside from fixing up his interesting creatures, but he knew that Snape was in bad shape. Aside from the fact that the professor was bleeding steadily, the fact that he couldn't walk himself back to Hogwarts was a bad sign. Hagrid had only had to carry him back from one of his 'meetings' once before; the night You- Know-Who had been reborn.  
  
To be honest, when he had seen Snape laying in the snow, completely still and looking like all the blood in his body had been drained, he hadn't been sure that the professor was alive. He couldn't imagine having to go back to Hogwarts with the news that Snape was dead. Dumbledore wouldn't be able to take it.  
  
The orb around Fang's neck had stopped glowing now that Snape was in his possession. That had been Dumbledore's idea. When Snape left Hogwarts the orb would glow red. When it changed green, it meant that he had returned and it was Hagrid's job to go see if he needed any assistance getting back.  
  
Most of the time when Hagrid brought him back, Snape was silent, completely drawn into his thoughts. It was rare that he came back in the condition he left. His injuries varied, but he always insisted on walking back to Hogwarts on his own.  
  
Hagrid wasn't stupid. Dumbledore had trusted him with what Snape was doing. As far as he knew, aside from himself, only Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall knew that Snape was a spy for Dumbledore. And if Dumbledore trusted Snape, that was enough for him.  
  
Speaking of Dumbledore and the nurse...  
  
"Go Fang." The dog took off running toward the castle. Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey would see the dog and know that Snape was coming in. Sure enough, as Hagrid entered the Main Hall with Snape, the two people hurried over to check the injured man.  
  
Pomfrey's face was grim as she took a magical reading of Snape's injuries. Dumbledore stood out of her way so not to disrupt her work, but he did reach out to clasp Snape's hand. Whether the gesture was to reassure Snape or himself, Hagrid couldn't say.  
  
"His hands are so cold," Dumbledore said, the concern evident in his voice. Snape moved a little at the sound of his voice, turning ever so slightly towards him.  
  
"Found him in the snow," Hagrid explained, "And he's bleeding." Pomfrey shook her head, not liking what she was finding. Not that anything seemed immediately life threatening, but Snape had to be hurting.  
  
"Let's get him downstairs," she said, picking up her bag of healing potions. Dumbledore nodded and wordlessly led the way down to Snape's quarters. Taking him to the Hospital wing was out of question. Other then the fact that Snape didn't like it there, having visited it too often in his relatively short life, it was important for the students to think that the Potions Master was only ill.  
  
Dumbledore unlocked the door with a wave of his wand and stepped back to allow Hagrid in with Snape. Pomfrey hurried after them. Moving quickly into Snape's bedroom, Hagrid placed the professor down on the bed.  
  
Together, Dumbledore and Pomfrey succeeded in stripping him down to his underwear, Dumbledore paling at the sight of the profusely bleeding wounds on the fair skin. Pomfrey hardly batted an eye as she handed Hagrid a cloth and told him to try to stanch the worst bleeder.  
  
Unable to help in any other way, Dumbledore sat on the edge of the bed, holding Snape's hand and stroking the snow dampened hair with the other while Pomfrey turned her attention to the contents of her bag.  
  
"His external wounds first," she announced opening a bottle and retrieving a paintbrush-like instrument. The mixture would result in instant healing. It was also good on burns.  
  
"Not that one," Dumbledore said, startling her. She looked at him, confused.  
  
"It heals the fastest," Pomfrey tried to reason. Dumbledore shook his head. Pomfrey looked cross and was about to demand an explanation when he offered one.  
  
"It stings upon application. If you have something else, I would like to try to spare him any more pain then necessary." Pomfrey's face softened and she chose another potion. She should have thought of that. Dumbledore was protective of Snape. She needed to remember that when working with him.  
  
"This doesn't heal instantly," she explained as she painted the light green potion over the bleeding and clotting injuries, "But it will stop the bleeding and aid in the closing." It took a while but she eventually got to all of then. Then she proceeded to pull a dark gray nightshirt over Snape's head, wrap him in a blanket and, after having Dumbledore sit back against the headboard, arrange the hurt wizard in his arms.  
  
Snape opened his eyes a little and blinked in confusion. Pomfrey nodded to him and, having Hagrid hand her the potions she asked for, she managed to get Snape to swallow several spoonfuls of a large selection.  
  
"This will heal those external wounds from the inside out. Slower," she at Dumbledore as Snape swallowed, "But it won't cause him any discomfort." Dumbledore nodded his approval and pulled Snape a little closer.  
  
"This will take care of the internal bleeding. This is for any broken or cracked bones. Soft tissue damage. Helps relieve any lingering side effects from curses. For the chill so that he doesn't catch anything." Snape was now fully awake and dutifully taking the potions that the matron urged into his mouth. His dark eyes were dull and lacked any light or focus.  
  
"And that should do it," Pomfrey announced, putting the spoon down. "Now he just needs to rest and take it easy for the next few days." Dumbledore smiled and pulled the blanket more fully around Snape.  
  
"Thank you for bringing him back, Hagrid," he said softly. Hagrid smiled through his bushy beard. The job of fetching Snape was one that often kept him up late, but he would do anything for the Headmaster.  
  
"No problem sir." Dumbledore watched Hagrid leave, the door closing behind him. Pomfrey was cleaning up her potions while Snape.Dumbledore looked down at Snape who sighed miserably and blinked, so very tired but resisting the call to sleep.  
  
"Poppy," Dumbledore said, trying not to disturb Snape, "Do you have anything that could help him sleep tonight." Pomfrey took one look at Snape and nodded.  
  
Taking out a goblet, she added a little water to a powered potion. A quick stir and she ladled a little into Snape's mouth. Snape gave a soft, shuddering sigh, and his head dropped against Dumbledore's chest, in a deep sleep. Pomfrey smiled a bit evilly.  
  
"Strong enough to knock out a centaur," she remarked as she magicked away the remainder of the mixture. An amused smile found its way to Dumbledore's face. Leave it to the nurse to have a mischievous streak.  
  
"Thank you, Poppy," Dumbledore said again, "There are not many people who would be as helpful to him." Pomfrey smiled a little and closed her bag.  
  
"If I recall, Albus, willingness to help anyone under any circumstance was part of the contract when I came to work here. I have helped a young werewolf after his transformations, I have healed countless Qudditch injuries, cured those nasty little sniffles that spread through the houses, and fixed up students from hexes they gave each other or, in cases, themselves. Just add Severus to my list." Dumbledore smiled, a bit sadly.  
  
"Remus was your favorite." Pomfrey blushed at being caught. How had he figured that out? As a nurse she didn't really have a need to play favorites, but Remus had been special.  
  
"I guess he was," she admitted, putting her bag on the light stand and taking a seat on the bed. "I felt that he especially was my responsibility. I would often talk with him when he was in the hospital wing. I watched him grow up. Move from a shy little boy to a confident young man. It was one of the more rewarding things I have done in my life." Dumbledore nodded in understanding.  
  
"The thing some teachers forget though," he said, almost regretfully rather then conversationally, "Is that we are watching all our charges grow up. Not just the ones that call our attention. Not just the bright, outgoing, humorous, and kind. We are also watching the cold, aloof, awkward, scared, lonely, and dangerously brilliant." Pomfrey noticed how his eyes dropped as he talked and she felt a bit guilty.  
  
"Like Severus," she said. Dumbledore shrugged, though she knew that was exactly who he had been talking about.  
  
"Like many of the children who go through Hogwarts," he replied. Pomfrey declined to say anything else, what could she say? There was nothing to be said. She picked up her bag and wished Dumbledore a pleasant night.  
  
Dumbledore watched the nurse leave. In his arms, Snape moved a little, trying to get comfortable.  
  
"It's alright, Severus," he whispered before placing a gentle kiss against his son's dark hair, "I'm here." Snape stilled and sighed, causing Dumbledore to smile ruefully.  
  
Turning a little he retrieved his wand. A quick wave and a drawer opened and the chain Snape had hidden away earlier that night was summoned to his hand. Placing it back around Snape's neck where it rightfully belonged, he settled down to watch over his son for the night.  
  
***  
  
Minerva McGonagall reached the door to Snape's quarters and let herself in. She was not in the best of moods. From what she could understand of the House Elf's babbling, the Headmaster had stayed the night with Snape after he came back from his 'meeting.' It was a sweet thing to do, she had to grudgingly admit, but it was not wise for Dumbledore to get so attached to Snape.  
  
Knocking on the bedroom door, she heard Dumbledore call her in. Snape, she saw, was sleeping under several blankets piled on his bed to keep him warm. Dumbledore was sitting in the chair next to the bed. He must have been reading because there was a book in his hands.  
  
"Minerva," he said quietly so not to wake Snape. "What can I do for you?"  
  
"There are two men from the Ministry upstairs. They want to talk to you." She didn't say what about, but he seemed to know. He nodded his understanding but looked back at Snape. "I'll stay with him until you come back," McGonagall offered. Dumbledore smiled and stood.  
  
"Am I so predictable?" McGonagall nodded with a tight smile. Predictable was an understatement.  
  
"When it comes to Severus? Yes." Dumbledore declined to answer as he smoothed Snape's hair away from his face. He had hoped that the Ministry's representatives wouldn't come until after he had a chance to talk to Snape and find out what had happened. But that couldn't be helped now.  
  
"Try to keep him calm," he said to the Transfiguration Professor, "If he wakes up get him to drink a little water or weak tea. We'll see how it goes from there." McGonagall watched him leave and then took his vacated seat next to Snape's bedside.  
  
She took out a book from her sleeve and allowed herself a real smile. She had known that the only way the Headmaster would leave Snape's side was if he knew someone was watching Snape for him.  
  
Snape sighed and turned over without waking up. McGonagall saw that his hair had fallen in his face again and she got up to move it away. She brushed the dark strands out of his face and off his neck when she stopped.  
  
A faint sparkle had caught her eye. Reaching down, she found a practically invisible chain under the collar of the gray nightshirt. She shook her head. It couldn't possibly be.  
  
Carefully, so not to wake Snape, she pulled the chain out from under his shirt until a tiny silver charm fell into her hand.  
  
"Oh dear sweet Merlin!"  
  
  
  
Author's Note: Did anyone notice that Snape is reading the same book his babysitter read the night she died? Irony is my friend.  
  
Next: How will McGonagall react? Will she be like Black and believe that Snape is participating in an elaborate plot to gain the Headmaster's trust? Or will she find out the truth? Also, the Dream Team goes to talk to one of the teachers in search of information. 


	11. Counter Spells

Disclaimer: Are we really going to do this again? You know the drill. I don't own, I wish I did, I make no money.  
  
Note: Incredibly special thanks to Tdei who helped he get past my writers block and worked on a few parts I was having trouble with. Tdei, you are a lifesaver. You are my hero. Thank you so very much!  
  
  
  
Dyed crimson from the furtive flames of the nearby fire, the chubby white gold bee shimmered prettily as it hung from a strand of moonlight with its iridescent wings that fluttered soundlessly against its wearer's pale skin.  
  
Minerva McGonagall stared at it blankly. She felt like she had been brained with a wardrobe. A very large, heavy wardrobe. After half a minute, she slowly flickered her eyes to the charm's wearer's face. Her hazelnut eyes darted back to the charm.  
  
Oh yes, she recognized it. How could she not? She saw it every year in her Pensive on February fifth.  
  
A slow buzzing pieced the numbness in her brain as frustrated anger flooded her nerves. Her mouth twisted into a thin line as her eyes burned with rage. How dare he! Her fingers shook as she forced herself not to tear the necklace from Severus' throat. The charm slowly sagged from sight as she painfully unknotted her fingers from the glinting silver chain and clasped her hands together in her lap.  
  
The Dumbledore charm belonged to only one Severus. Albus' Severus, not Severus Snape, the ex-Death-Eater, the Slytherin, the Severus who lived. She sat rigidly in her chair. How dare he... McGonagall was unsure whom she was addressing. Targetless, her fury surged hopelessly, seeping into her consciousness, and burning with the pain of the Cruciatus Curse.  
  
Dumbledore, if it was he who gave the charm to Severus. How could he think his son can be replaced?! Voldermort, if it was he who gave Severus the charm. If it was Voldermort, Snape was a traitor. It was some sort of elaborate scheme designed to take advantage of the Headmaster's memories. Memories were only where the charm should exist. It infuriated her to see it here, especially here, in Severus Snape's possession.  
  
Pretending that Severus Dumbledore never existed betrayed his memory, but this! Minerva tasted bile in the back of her throat.  
  
This was desecration.  
  
Hurt curled its spiteful claws into her abdomen.  
  
Snape wasn't their Severus; he could never be their Severus. He could never take his place. The only thing the two even had in common was a name! Severus.  
  
"Severus," she hissed. She glared down at Snape who, still asleep, failed to reply. Same age. Same physical type. Same name. Her lips curled into a sneer. What a coincidence. Very cute game someone was orchestrating. Well she, for one, was not going to play anymore.  
  
She twirled her wand with the ease of a dangerously trained expert between her fingers. It was all too perfect. A look-a-like with slightly altered features for the Headmaster to become fond of. It was impossible for anyone to have found such a perfect match of the correct age; it had to be a concealment charm.  
  
It was time to find out who Severus Snape really was. She was going to get to the bottom of all this once and for all. She was physically sick of it. Sick and revolted of playing these cloak-and-dagger games. And then, Voldermort would pay for his fun. Even if she had to hunt him down herself and strangle him with her bare hands.  
  
"Finite Incantatem." She sat back and waited for the telltale signs of a spell being removed. To her deep annoyance, nothing happened. Something should have happened. "Finitum Terminus." Same result. She threw down her wand in disgust. This was not just a coincidence. Let others think that. She would not be foolish enough to believe that, ever again. Snape was not who he claimed to be; she would stake her life on it.  
  
"Who are you?" she spat at Snape. She leaned forward, rubbing her temples to relieve her headache. The only sounds in the room were from the crackling fire and Snape's soft, steady breathing.  
  
Then it came to her like a bolt of lightening. Some spells needed specific counter charms; Transfiguration spells in particular. She just had to figure out the right combination of words.  
  
Well, either that or she could try casting a generic counter spell with a force bordering on physically damaging. She wasn't ready to resort to that just yet. The Headmaster would have her head if she caused Snape any harm and didn't have a reasonable explanation and proof to back herself up.  
  
Ten minutes later, she still hadn't any luck. She growled low under her breath. Either the person who had performed the original spell had put in place an immensely complex counter charm, or a numbingly simple one. "Why don't you just tell me!" she yelled at Snape. He twitched in his asleep but did not wake. McGonagall scrubbed her eyes in fatigue.  
  
"Why don't you try Finite Nox Incantatem?" McGonagall jumped, startled, and whipped around to see the Headmaster watching her, his arms folded across his chest. She hadn't heard him come in.  
  
She was about to apologize for making so much noise when she noticed there was something different about him. Not physically though. It was in his stance. He was completely focused; the insanity-induced laughter and play were gone. Even the mystical, soft feel that surrounded him was gone. Instead he was controlled and concentrated, radiating intensity. She realized, as shock bled into the mélange of emotions she was feeling, that she hadn't seem him like this since his son died.  
  
She shook off her confusion; here was idiot of the village, taken in by the 'lost lamb' act Snape had perfected.  
  
"Finite Nox Incantatem?" she repeated in an acidly sardonic tone. She didn't know what he was up to, suggesting a counter charm. Could it possibly be that he knew that Snape wasn't who he claimed to be? In Merlin's name, what was going on?! Why keep up the facade then?  
  
Dumbledore simply nodded, unperturbed by her insurgent tone. "Yes," he replied. McGonagall scoffed in disgust and turned back to Snape. She could care less right now what effect the spell the Headmaster recommended would bring. She just wanted to get away from the both of them. Away from them and the lies that they surrounded themselves in. Dumbledore's lies were to himself about Snape. Snape's lies were to everyone about who he was.  
  
Fine, counter curse and then leave.  
  
"Finite Nox Incantatem." It was just another counter curse, but something did happen this time that had never happened with any of the others. She stood frozen to the floor in shock and horror as she watched Snape's hair lighten and then relax into a light curl. Wrong. Oh gods had she been wrong.  
  
Snape sighed in his sleep and turned over onto his side, causing the charm around his neck to nestle like a single brilliant star against the dark blue sheets. McGonagall looked up at Dumbledore and then back to Snape. There was that wardrobe again. She swallowed hard. Her mind was in a whirl while things began to fall into place. The one situation she had never entertained. "Is, is he-?"  
  
Dumbledore nodded and moved away from the wall to stand next to Snape's bed, like some sort of strange sort of protector, standing watch over his fallen angel. "He is my son, Minerva."  
  
McGonagall shook her head. This couldn't be happening. She had to be dreaming. 'Come one Minerva, wake up.' But she didn't wake up. A spell had been lifted off of Snape, it just didn't have the outcome she had anticipated. He was a different person, just not the person she expected him to be.  
  
"You," she finally hissed, narrowing her eyes at the Headmaster, "You lied to me." Dumbledore looked at her and nodded solemnly. He was not going to even bother to deny it or try to give it some other name. He had done exactly what he had believed necessary.  
  
"I lied to everyone, Minerva. You were no exception." The calm in his tome infuriated McGonagall. Anger rose quickly again. But this time, she had a target.  
  
"How could you do this to us! I cared about him; we all cared about him! I was, I never want to feel what I did when I heard he was dead. But you didn't even have the decency to tell us that he was alive?!" McGonagall looked at the Headmaster, expecting an apology or at least some regret, but Dumbledore's eyes were unrelenting.  
  
"Do want to know what really happened?" he said, his voice low, which forced her to pay attention in spite of herself and her wrath, both of which didn't want to hear his excuses or how he was going to try and justify everything.  
  
Dumbledore didn't wait for her agreement and began without her consent. "Yes, there were two Death Eater there that night. They did kill Tammi. They did cast the Killing Curse at Severus. They missed," he said flatly. "I put a memory charm on him, altered him appearance, and left him at an orphanage. An orphanage, Minerva."  
  
McGonagall flinched. Was that where Snape had grown up? She had never known. He was a Slytherin and therefor hadn't been her responsibility. But even later, she had never bothered to get to know him enough to him to find out.  
  
Dumbledore pushed a satiny curl of hair out of Snape's face. "I left my baby alone with no memory to be raised by others because I couldn't protect him. I only removed the memory charm this past December." McGonagall swallowed, she had no idea all of this had been going on. And she prided herself on understanding and reading people. 'Stupid!' she berated herself 'How blind can you get?'  
  
"You could have given him to a trusted friend," she protested, looking for any way Dumbledore could have avoided sending his son to an orphanage. Severus didn't deserve the life he had led. Dumbledore smiled at her suggestion, but shook his head. "Everyone had to believe he was dead or he would be in danger."  
  
McGonagall bristled again. Everyone. Those who loved him and cared for him included. Only Dumbledore knew the truth. Only he got to enjoy the time he spent with Severus Snape.  
  
"Well. That is the most selfish thing I have ever heard. We all wanted to watch him grow up, and you deprived us of that." McGonagall was about to propel herself into another fit when Dumbledore glared at her. She immediately shut up. Something instinctively told her that she wasn't going to like what he was going to say.  
  
"I believe," he snapped, briefly making McGonagall contemplate how very much he was like Snape when he was angry (and let people know it). Or was it the other way around now? "That the staff got to watch Severus during his school years? Remember him? He was the Slytherin they all shunned." McGonagall blushed as a wave of guilt threatened to overwhelm her. He was right; they had Severus with them for his seven years of school. And they had ignored him, or worse, hated him.  
  
"What about his mother?" she said lamely, looking for anyone who should have had a right to know the truth. Dumbledore actually laughed at that.  
  
"What about his mother?" he asked without looking up as he straightened the dark colored blankets on Snape's bed.  
  
"She didn't know the truth either?" McGonagall asked tentatively. Dumbledore looked amused.  
  
"Do you remember the terms of our separation?" he said instead. McGonagall managed to look properly embarrassed. "It said," Dumbledore continued, "That she did not want any custody or visitation rights to Severus. Sabra had her job with the Ministry and didn't have time to look out for a two- year-old child. I was granted complete custody of Severus and told her that if she ever wanted to see her son, she was more than welcome. In the two years before his 'death' she never visited him or made any effort to contact him." McGonagall lowered her eyes and looked away. Dumbledore finished tending to Snape and then sat in the other chair.  
  
They said nothing to each other as they watched Snape sleep. This was because McGonagall had wrapped herself in her thoughts, trying to come to terms with what she had learned. Dumbledore was giving her the time she needed.  
  
"I'm sorry," she finally said, looking up and meeting her friend's eyes. She felt bad. Not angry or sick anymore, just sad and ashamed of how she had acted towards Snape for over two decades. She sent him a small, sad smile, knowing that she had a lot to make up for. "It's just, overwhelming."  
  
"Not to mention embarrassing," a tired, yet still effectively sarcastic voice added. McGonagall's attention snapped back to Snape. He rolled over, being careful of his healing injuries, and with a tremble of dark lashes, his eyes swept slowly open. Dumbledore leaned over Snape, checking how he was feeling, and smoothing back dark auburn hair with unmatched gentleness.  
  
Minerva didn't breathe. It was as if the air in her lungs had solidified into ice. Motionless, she gazed, transfixed, at the waking man as if he were the most unbelievable thing she had ever seen. Time held for an endless second as he stirred and turned his head slightly toward her.  
  
Blue eyes. Pale sapphires that shone like a thousand fireflies in twilight and shimmered like starlight in the depths of an unknown sea. They were Dumbledore's depthless and mysterious eyes. They were Severus' eyes.  
  
It was Severus. Minerva could not-- and would not-- doubt it. Emotions streamed through her like a cool waterfall. Among them, haunting guilt for her behavior, muted excitement for a reunion she'd thought she'd never have, detached shock at the twist of fate, but strongest was the pure, buoyant joy that welled from her heart and brightened her soul.  
  
Severus was alive.  
  
Minerva inhaled; she had almost forgotten she needed to breathe.  
  
Dumbledore helped Snape sit up and lean back against the pillows and was about to hand him the goblet of water when McGonagall, no longer able to contain herself with any sense of dignity, launched herself at her young colleague, catching him in a tight embrace.  
  
Snape squirmed in her tight hold, embarrassed and uncomfortable. When it didn't appear that she was going to let go anytime soon, he looked desperately at his father for help. Dumbledore grinned at him, amused even when Snape began to glare at him, but did move forward to remove McGonagall's hands.  
  
"Minerva," he scolded playfully, "You're embarrassing Severus." McGonagall sat back and folded her hands in her lap to keep herself from touching him, but she sill watched him with the intensity of a prowling cat. But as she watched him take the offered water from the Headmaster, she began to cry. Alarmed, Snape looked from Dumbledore to McGonagall.  
  
"What wrong with her?" he asked. McGonagall made an effort to wipe away the tears.  
  
"I'm so sorry," she managed, dabbing at her eyes with her Gryffindor red handkerchief, "I have treated you so badly." Snape blushed and shrugged, as though he couldn't believe that all the fuss she was making was about him.  
  
"Forget it," he said, looking down at his hands, "I didn't make it easy on anyone. I don't blame you, for anything." McGonagall shook her head. No matter what Snape might say, it didn't excuse how she and the staff had treated him during his school days. And how they treated him even now.  
  
"And to think," she said with a half sobbing laugh, "If Albus didn't have a meeting, I still would be oblivious"  
  
Snape's face fell immediately at her words and he wrapped his arms around his chest as if cold. He ducked his head down, causing soft curls to tumble across his face, obscuring McGonagall's view of his face. She looked nervously at Dumbledore. Did she say something wrong?  
  
"Minerva," Dumbledore said kindly, "Would you go to the kitchens and get something for Severus to eat?" McGonagall nodded, painfully aware of Snape's change of mood. "Take your time, you can see him later," Dumbledore added, without looking up. He didn't say another word until the witch had closed the door.  
  
"Severus, two men from the Ministry were here to see me earlier. An alarm went off at Edmund Gabrales' home." Snape nodded and traced the pattern woven into his bedspread.  
  
"He was a friend of yours," Snape said softly, looking up briefly. "I think I vaguely remember him." Dumbledore nodded and Snape sighed in defeat. There was only one thing left for him to do. If the Ministry had already come by, the Headmaster had to know that Gabrales was dead by the hand of Death Eaters. Now Dumbledore needed to know how and why it had happened.  
  
"They added me to the team at the last minute. I didn't even know there was a mission until Magnus Teivel, Teivel-he was one of Voldermort's first supporters, told me to follow him. We apparated to the Gabrales' home. He was downstairs, working. Teivel told the rest of us to secure the premises. He stayed alone with Gabrales to question him. I don't know why he did that; it's not usual protocol. I tripped the alarm on the front door as soon as I was able. Teivel called for us to abort the mission and," Snape faltered and Dumbledore took his hand in silent support. Snape clung to it and took a deep breath.  
  
"And Teivel killed him just before we left. When we got back, Teivel had to report to Voldermort that the mission had failed. Apparently, Teivel failed to get a certain piece of information from Gabrales. So Voldermort killed him." Snape shivered and Dumbledore moved closer to put his arm over his son's shoulders. Snape leaned against him, reassured by his warmth.  
  
"The rest of the team faired similarly to me. Whatever Voldermort was looking for, he is mowing down anyone who gets in his way." Dumbledore shook his head and gently ran his hand up and down Snape's back in smooth, comforting strokes. Something big was happening-- but Tom was erasing all the clues.  
  
"Do you have any idea what he could be after?" Dumbledore finally said aloud. Snape shrugged and burrowed closer to him, letting his mind clear, to just enjoy the fact that he had gotten through another meeting alive and that his father was here to take care of him.  
  
"No. But it worries me."  
  
***  
  
The snow was still falling lightly when Harry and his two friends crossed the Hogwarts grounds wrapped warmly in their winter cloaks. It was cold out, but a pleasant kind of cold, with a freshness that makes one loathe to be inside until they have rolled and played in the snow like a carefree puppy.  
  
The snow crunched underneath their feet and the snowflakes danced in their hair like silly fairies. Harry laughed as Hermione managed to trip Ron and send him sprawling face-first into the snow. He wanted to stay outside in the cool, clean snow and air and let the doubts in his mind rest, but he couldn't.  
  
Harry looked over his shoulder at Hermione who nodded. Beside her, Ron looked grave but determined. Sighing, Harry knocked on the door. "Hagrid? Are you there? We want to talk to you."  
  
  
  
  
  
Next: Dream Team and Hagrid talk and the plot thickens.  
  
Author's Note: Thank you again Tdei! 


	12. Darkness Falls

Disclaimer: If I owned the characters, I couldn't have a computer this slow.  
  
  
  
Hagrid was delighted when he opened his door and found the three young Gryffindor students on his front step. He wasted no time in inviting them inside for a cup of tea, which they readily accepted. It didn't take long for Hagrid to set out tea and place a tray of teacakes in the center of the table. "An old family receipt. Freshly made," he said with pride in his voice as he watched Ron eye the cakes with suspicion.  
  
Harry glanced at his friends and then back at the tray. There was no way out of it. "Thank you, Hagrid," Harry said as he and his friends each took one of the rock-hard treats out of politeness.  
  
Ron, deciding that there was no possible way he was going to be able to actually eat the thing better suited for life as a paperweight, pulled a few walnuts out his pocket that he had saved from an earlier meal and began using his teacake to crack them open.  
  
Hermione heard the fist crunch of shell being broken and turned to see Ron about to murder another walnut. Frowning, she jabbed him in the ribs and shook her head. Ron rolled his eyes, reluctantly put the remaining nuts back in his pocket, and settled back to gnaw for eternity on the offensive thing.  
  
"What do I owe to dis visit?" Hagrid asked as he sat down in his favorite, rather worn chair, and added a few heaping spoonfuls of sugar to his mug of tea.  
  
Hermione shifted into battle mode, pushed her tea out of the way, and folded her hands on the tabletop in a 'no nonsense' way. "We're here to ask you about Dumbledore's son." Ron groaned and mentally cursed her lack of tact as Hagrid's tanned face went from red to purple to white to green faster than Harry's Firebolt.  
  
"How," Hagrid choked, his eyes everywhere but on his young friends, "How'd you find out about dat?" Hermione was unfazed by Hagrid's nervousness and didn't break eye contact for a second.  
  
"If what we've heard is correct," she replied tartly, "Then it is safer for our informer that he remains anonymous." Hagrid stared at her and then nodded in understanding. Anyone who valued his life would know that it was a bad thing to be known as the one spreading THAT story around.  
  
"Why Hagrid," Harry said now, hoping his friendship with the big man would help them in their attempt to get answers, "Why is everyone afraid to talk about him? You seem more afraid to talk about Severus Dumbledore," Hagrid flinched violently, almost dropping his mug, "Then Vold-sorry-You Know Who."  
  
Hagrid looked from one expectant young face to the other. So eager to devour information. He frowned and shook his head. "No," he said.  
  
Hermione blinked in surprise. She hadn't expected a flat out refusal. "No," she repeated slowly, trying to give Hagrid a chance to change his mind.  
  
But Hagrid would have none of it.  
  
"No," Hagrid said, firmly this time, his face set and grim. "I'm not tellin' you anythin'."  
  
"Why not?" Harry demanded. Despite what his godfather had told him, he didn't see the need for all the deception.  
  
Hagrid shook his shaggy head and laughed. It was not his normal booming laugh; it was thin and apprehensive. "'Cause the Wizardin' World would much rather have You-Know-Who as our resident Dark Lord than Albus Dumbledore," he said, his voice turning bitter.  
  
"What!" Ron shouted, his eyes as big as saucers.  
  
"Ssshh," Hagrid hissed, looking around as if checking to make sure no one had heard Ron. Hagrid looked at the young Gryffindors and sighed, running a thick hand through his rough hair. He stood up from the table and systematically went around the room, drawing the curtains. The room was very dark with only the fire letting off a low orange glow. Fang whimpered from his bed in the corner.  
  
Harry heard Hagrid moving somewhere in the room. A soft light eased the dark as Hagrid lit a lantern and came back to set it on the table. Once he had reclaimed his seat, Fang trotted over to his master, his nails clicking on the wooden floor. Hagrid put his hand on the dog's massive head for a moment, gathering his thoughts.  
  
"Dumbledore," Hagrid finally began with a heavy sigh, wishing it wasn't him who had to explain this, "He's a good man. A great man. But he's still human. His-The Child's death 'most drove him insane.  
  
Can you imagine," Hagrid looked at the children in front of him, praying that they would understand, "What would've happened if we didn't forget about The Child?  
  
Dumbledore would have sought out You-Know-Who with all his power. And if he killed You-Know-Who out of anger and fer revenge for dat innocent death, well, he would have tapped into some of the very worst dark magic. The kind dat consumes your mind as well as your soul.  
  
Personally," Hagrid met the students' eyes with unwavering directness, "I'd rather be fightin' against You-Know-Who than Dumbledore. Less deaths dat way; a better chance of winnin' too.  
  
So if never talkin' 'bout The Child is the key to keepin' Dumbledore on our side, then I happily participate in the deception."  
  
Hagrid only looked away now that he was finished. It was the truth, all of it. But it still left a bitter taste in his mouth, like he was betraying someone.  
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat in stunned silence, letting what Hagrid had said seep into their minds. Only Harry had ever fought face to face with Voldemort, but they had all heard of the horrors during his first rise to power. To have Dumbledore replace Voldemort, it was unthinkable. But according to Hagrid, it was possible. And Hagrid was as loyal as you could get to the Headmaster; he wouldn't lie to them about this.  
  
"I had no idea it was this serious," Hermione whispered, her face wan in the spooky glow of the lantern. Beside her, Harry and Ron nodded in agreement.  
  
Hagrid sighed. It had been so long since he allowed himself to think about any of this. His big heart still ached for the Headmaster. "Dumbledore would have traded his life for The Child's in an instant. But, fer all his power and intelligence, he couldn't. He weren't there when The Child needed him the most. And dat is what he can't live with."  
  
Harry looked at his friends as Hagrid pulled out his checkered handkerchief to mop at his wet eyes. Ron and Hermione nodded at Harry's unspoken question; they didn't need, or want to know, anything else. Some things are just supposed to stay buried.  
  
"Thank you, Hagrid," Harry said in a voice so soft that it was hardly heard. He felt bad about dragging up all of this. "We won't tell anyone."  
  
Hagrid smiled sadly before looking away into the fire, lost in his memories. "You should leave now," he said, not looking up.  
  
Harry got up from the table and gently herded his friends outside. They went easily, wanting to get away from the ghosts that they had forced Hagrid to recall.  
  
Harry paused at the door and looked back. Fang lay his head on Hagrid's knee and whined sympathetically. Harry went outside and closed the door behind him without a sound. His friends were waiting for him.  
  
Harry took a deep breath and pulled his cloak closer around his shoulders, cold not only from the snow but the demons that seemed to exist only to haunt the living.  
  
"It's cold," he finally said. "Let's get back to the common room."  
  
*** Two Weeks Later ***  
  
A headmaster is never free of paperwork and Albus Dumbledore was no exception. With a few more hours to dinner, he was at his desk trying to shrink the pile of work awaiting his attention. With everything from letters from the Ministry unofficially asking for help with Voldemort's recent actions to messages from former students, he had more than enough to keep him busy. He had just signed a Third Year Hufflepuff's request to bring his own broom to school when someone knocked loudly at his door.  
  
Curious, but not unaware of who it was, he got up from his desk to let his visitor in, carefully stepping to the side to avoid being knocked over as his son hurried in and slammed the door shut behind him.  
  
"Blast that insufferable woman," Snape raged as he plunked himself down in a free chair in front of the desk the dominated the center of the room.  
  
Dumbledore hid a smile as he made his way back to his desk. "Minerva again?" he asked, trying his best to appear innocent of what had irked his son so much as he straightened up the mess of papers strewn across the top of the desk.  
  
Snape, not fooled by the act for a second, scowled at him. "Of course Minerva. Every time she tries to act like nothing has changed she gives me this pitiful, sad look. I swear she's about to burst into tears every time she looks at me." Dumbledore caught a note of something else that wasn't being said and peered at Snape over his glasses.  
  
Snape tried to hold his father's gaze but failed. "So of course, I try harder to provoke her. A few minutes ago there was a hexing incident between two of our first years. She blamed the fight on my student, said he started it, and so I said, 'Yeah right, and I'm the Headmaster's son.'" Snape's smile grew truly wicked.  
  
"You should have seen the look on her face. She didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or get angry with me. Gods it was funny. So then we exchanged insults, she took three points off Slytherin and I took five off Gryffindor."  
  
Dumbledore laughed. Poor Minerva, she was fair game as far as Snape was concerned. Her being vulnerable to his sarcastic banter only encouraged him more. "So then you ran away before she could apologize and are up here hiding from her?"  
  
Snape nodded. The last time he had stayed around after teasing the Transfiguration Professor into a frenzy, she had tried to hug him as an apology. No matter how much she may have held him before he became Severus Snape, he still didn't want her touching him. "Damn straight."  
  
Dumbledore smiled. He was more than willing to grant Snape sanctuary from McGonagall. If nothing else, it was a chance to talk with him. "You are going to be the death of that poor woman," he teased, "Why do you insisted on giving her a hard time her? Come to think of it, why do you torture everyone but the students of your house?"  
  
Snape smirked and leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on the Headmaster's desk with an obvious flippant air. "I'm a Slytherin," he said with a satisfied sneer. "It amuses me."  
  
Dumbledore shook his head and struggled not to laugh. "Child," he said, trying very hard to remain serious as he pushed Snape's feet off his desk, "You need a hobby."  
  
A sudden knock at the door made them both turn around. Snape sprung to his feet like a startled cat. "I'm not here," he hissed.  
  
Dumbledore nodded and shooed him into the next room. "I'll be sure to tell Minerva that I haven't seen you," he promised as Snape pulled the door shut.  
  
Dumbledore quickly rearranged the papers on his desk to make it look as though he had been working. Laying a quill across a letter, he nodded in satisfaction and went to open the door.  
  
His smile died when he saw who was standing behind the door. Instantly on his guard, Dumbledore nodded to the uniformed wizard. "Yes?"  
  
"Officer Kaufman. I'm sorry to disturb you, Headmaster Dumbledore," the security wizard said curtly, "But there has been another death."  
  
Dumbledore moved back to let the man in. "Who?" He asked as he took his seat behind his desk. The security officer remained standing.  
  
"Fritzwilliam Walterscot. He was found in his home this morning by his secretary who was concerned when he didn't show up for work." Dumbledore sighed and closed his eyes.  
  
"I need to ask Mr. Snape some questions about his whereabouts last night," Officer Kaufman continued, checking his written instructions from his superior.  
  
Dumbledore looked up abruptly, every alarm going off in his head. "Severus was with me." He said it in such a way that would tolerate no argument, but Kaufman still looked unconvinced.  
  
Kaufman looked down at his orders. They clearly said to interview Snape. He shook his head, missing the spark of anger that lit the venerable wizard's crystal blue eyes. "I still need to ask Mr. Snape my question."  
  
Dumbledore rose slightly out of his chair and glared at the wizard, succeeding in making him pale. "Severus. Was. With. Me."  
  
Kaufman nodded and smiled weakly, backing off his line pursuit with nervous haste. "Then I'll take your word for it," he replied, frantically remembering that his supervisor had warned him about the Headmaster's over- protectiveness of the Potions Master. There was no way to fix this now. Get out and try again later.  
  
"Good," Dumbledore said, leaning forward, both palms on his desktop. "If that is all, then I wish you a good day," his low, menacing tone had the desired effect and the security officer scurried out the door as fast as he could.  
  
Dumbledore watched Kaufman leave and waited a few seconds to be sure that he had really gone before sitting back down in his chair, letting his defensive stand collapse. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes with a weariness that made him look every one of his many, many years.  
  
It wasn't long though, before he was aware of someone standing behind him, hesitantly shifting his weight from foot to foot. A few cat-light steps and a thin, pale hand came to rest gently on his shoulder.  
  
"I'm so sorry," Snape whispered, not knowing what else to say.  
  
Dumbledore reached up and placed his hand on top of Snape's. "I know," he said softly, giving the cold hand a light squeeze.  
  
Snape shook his head angrily. He had neither been informed about this mission nor called. It was starting to confuse and worry him; he hated to see what happened in his absence. "Why wasn't I summoned?"  
  
Dumbledore, hearing the unspoken self-loathing in his son's voice, stood and calmly pulled him into his arms. Snape gave in without a fight and rested his head on his father's shoulder.  
  
"I don't know, Severus," Dumbledore answered honestly, not even allowing himself to think that Snape had been discovered as a spy. If that was true, he told himself, Snape would have been summoned and killed by now.  
  
Snape sighed unhappily. "That makes five. And they were all close, long- time friends of yours."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Heaven help me, Severus, but I have no idea what they were looking for."  
  
***  
  
Somewhere in a forgotten little village, a cold wet fog had settled in for the night. Nothing moved in the little town except for the idle swirls that the fog made as it wound its way through the bony trees that rattled like old bones hung out to yellow and dry.  
  
Sometime after the bell in the old church tower chimed midnight, a dim light appeared in the graveyard near the outskirts of the village. First only one light could be detected in the gloom, and then others joined it. The lights seemed to float like suspended orbs of fire and villagers would swear in the morning that the town had been visited by the Devil.  
  
As it was, they weren't too far off in their superstitions.  
  
Around the graves, moving like shadows through the slushy snow and dirt, Death Eaters patrolled with silent treads. The wind was slight and biting, but no one dared complain. These sentries that prowled the sleeping places of the town's oldest citizens, their only job tonight was to make sure no unwelcome guests showed up. Their Master had promised death to those that failed tonight and no one was anxious to see if he intended to keep his word.  
  
For Voldemort had accompanied his men on this terrible mission. He and a small knot of his most trusted had gathered at the far end of the lonely cemetery. The wind whispered a shrill warning as it twisted through the trees, but no warning can move the Devil.  
  
Voldemort, his red snake-like eyes giving off a hellish glow in the dark, watched as several of his men dug up a small grave. They grunted and panted with effort, for the gave was old and the dirt was difficult to move, as if the person laid to rest was reluctant to be uncovered.  
  
A headstone, carelessly thrown and shattered into sad fragments still managed to spell out a name, 'Severus D. Dumbledore.' Occasionally one of the Death Eaters would glance at the broken tablet and shudder, imagining that he could feel the dark wings of the child's spirit flutter without a sound against his cheek.  
  
Voldemort's long, spidery fingers had just begun to drum with distinct impatience when one of the men around the grave let out a shout. Voldemort moved closer and watched expectantly as a coffin, magically preserved with visible signs of a parent's care, was raised from the hole and set on the ground.  
  
The Death Eaters stood back and looked around nervously. However faithful they were to their Master, there was something sacrilegious about their deed which made them glad for the masks that hid their identities from one another.  
  
"Open it," Voldemort hissed, making several of his men start in surprise. One of them grabbed the pry and held it out to the circle. No one stepped forward to take it. A sudden bolt of lightening emitted form Voldemort's wand and the poor fool that it had been aimed at rushed forward to take the metal bar from his associate.  
  
In the end, it took three men pressing down on the pry to force the smooth top of the coffin open. The dark brown wood shattered with a crack and the lid came off, revealing the light blue sheet that lined the interior. Voldemort stepped forward to see-"Nothing," one of the Death Eaters whispered in a hoarse voice.  
  
Voldemort stood unmoving, his quick Slytherin mind racing over possibilities. His followers edged nervously away from him in case he should feel like taking his anger out on one of them. They were then very surprised then he finally opened his eyes and declared, "How very clever." A trace of a cruel smile lingered on his thin, bloodless lips. "Very clever."  
  
***  
  
Harry woke up screaming in pain and clutching the scar on his forehead. As the dream faded and the pain receded to a dull throb, Harry, still breathing hard, tried to recall the details of what he had seen.  
  
"Harry?" Ron asked, his sleepy voice jolting Harry out of his paralyzed state. "You okay?" Harry tumbled out of his bed and pulled on bathrobe and slippers with frantic speed.  
  
"Wake Hermione," Harry managed, still trembling from what he had seen. "I need to go see that Headmaster." Ron nodded and threw off the covers.  
  
"Where are you going?" Neville mumbled, still half asleep. Ron watched Harry disappear out the door and tucked his wand into the belt of his robe.  
  
"No where," Ron answered, knowing that Neville would follow if he tried to explain. "Go back to sleep."  
  
***  
  
Snape woke with a start, his right hand immediately moving to grip the burning mark on his left forearm. He had almost hoped that Voldemort had forgotten about him. Stupid. More likely the Dark Lord had been working a mission too valuable to let the 'Questionable Servant' participate.  
  
The pair flared in his arm and Snape resisted the urge to cry out. "Damn," he hissed through clenched teeth. From the feel of it, the Dark Lord was in a bad mood tonight.  
  
Snape got up and dressed quickly. The sooner he left, the sooner he would be back. Fixing the clasp on his cloak, he rang for a House Elf. The call was answered promptly by the same Elf that had taken his message the last time.  
  
The Elf eyed Snape's apparel and gave him a disapproving look. "Professor Snape, sir, should be asleep," it reprimanded in a squeaky, irritating voice.  
  
Snape scowled at the House Elf and grabbed his wand off the nightstand. "Never mind that. Tell Dumbledore that I'm going out."  
  
  
  
Next: Dun, dun, dun! 


	13. Things Fall Apart

Disclaimer: What disclaimer haven't I used yet? I'm out of witty ideas. I don't own any of the characters. I'm not making money. Don't sue because frankly my dear, I don't have a dime. Case closed.  
  
  
  
Footsteps echoing like thunder in the silence, Harry ran through dimly lit halls and up staircases, his mind focused on getting to Dumbledore and the fact that with his luck, this was probably Snape's night to patrol the corridors. He fervently wished that he had remembered to bring his father's invisibility cloak and it was only by sheer luck that he didn't run into Filch on his nightly patrol.  
  
It wasn't until he was standing in front of the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's office that Harry realized that he might be making a terrible mistake. There was no misconception over the name that had been on the headstone of the grave that Voldemort had dug up. But what kind of can of worms would this open?  
  
Then Harry shook his head. Who knew for what dark purpose Voldemort had uncovered the grave? He had a duty to tell the Headmaster, to at least warn him about what the Dark Lord had been up to. He wouldn't want someone digging up his parents, after all. So Dumbledore, Harry reasoned, even if he usually pretended his son never existed, wouldn't want Severus disturbed.  
  
"Jelly Slugs," Harry said aloud to the statue, using for the password the candy that Black had told him was the sweet of the month. Sure enough, the gargoyle sprang to life and moved aside to allow Harry entrance.  
  
Harry rode the stairs up and knocked on the door. Then he held his breath, listening for sounds beyond the door. What if the Headmaster was asleep? Should he knock again? Or maybe just wait until morning and come back then.  
  
All his concerns were put to rest when the door opened to reveal the Headmaster, still dressed in his day clothes. Didn't the man ever sleep?  
  
Dumbledore did not seem bothered by Harry's arrival nor his choice of clothing. Instead he smiled, rather amused at Harry's disheveled state and stood back to allow him inside.  
  
"A bit late for a visit, don't you think Harry?" Dumbledore said, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses as he took his usual seat behind his desk and waved Harry towards a chair.  
  
Harry blushed, a soft rose color creeping into his face, and began to apologize for bothering him, but the Headmaster stopped him with a calm gesture of his hand. "I am teasing you, Harry," Dumbledore said with a smile, "You would not be up here if it were not important."  
  
Harry nodded, relieved, and in a halting voice, began to relate what he had seen in his dream. He did well, telling the Headmaster everything he remembered, until he came to the part about the Death Eaters digging up the grave. He was treading in dangerous waters and knew that he'd have to proceed carefully.  
  
"The headstone was broken, I couldn't read the whole name," he lied, unintentionally avoiding the Dumbledore's piercing blue gaze and missing the flash of horror that played in the old Wizard's eyes.  
  
"I did make out your own last name though," Harry added in a slow, measured tone as he quickly crossed his fingers behind his back, praying that because no one his age was supposed to know about Severus Dumbledore, the Headmaster wouldn't suspect that he knew the truth.  
  
When the Headmaster didn't say anything, Harry looked up cautiously and was at once worried to see that Dumbledore's face had turned deathly pale. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Where was Hermione to hit him over the head with Hogwarts, A History when he needed it? He should never have come.  
  
"What," Dumbledore shook his head, trying to remain calm even as his heart took off at a ridiculous rate. His son was safely asleep downstairs. There was no reason to panic. And still."How did Voldemort react?"  
  
Harry chewed on his lip, not sure if he should answer the Headmaster with the truth. Hadn't he done enough damage tonight?  
  
"Please," Dumbledore said suddenly, startling Harry with the distinctly strained sound of his voice. "It is very important."  
  
Holding back a heavy sigh, Harry recalled what he had heard the Dark Lord say. "He said, 'how very clever,' and then repeated, 'very clever,'" Harry picked at a few loose stings on his sleeve. "And then I woke up."  
  
Dumbledore nodded, his smile looking considerably weaker. It was as though his mind was already miles away. Harry was about to speak again, wanting to make sure that the Headmaster was all right when a loud crack made them both turn.  
  
Dobby, complete with clashing socks and enthusiasm that had yet to meet its match, hopped from one foot to the other. "Professor Snape sir, bids Dobby tell the Headmaster sir, that he is going out," the House Elf announced, incurably cheerful.  
  
Dumbledore, still looking impossibly pale, began to tremble. Harry glanced over at Dobby whose tennis ball eyes were wide with worry. So this wasn't the Headmaster's usual response to the House Elf's message.  
  
"No," Dumbledore whispered, as if he were caught in a trance, "Not again." Cautiously, Harry got out of his chair and inched closer to the dismayed Wizard. "Sir, are you all right?" Harry asked timidly.  
  
Without answering Dumbledore suddenly sprang to his feet and grabbed his cloak, throwing it around his shoulders. "Dobby," he ordered, the elf snapping to attention, "Go to Hagrid and tell him that he is to stop Professor Snape from leaving. I can't explain why, but tell him it's imperative that Severus remains on Hogwarts grounds."  
  
Dobby nodded, his absurd ears flapping like banners, and rushed off to do the Headmaster's bidding.  
  
Knowing that Dobby would deliver his message did nothing to assure Dumbledore that Snape was safe. Without looking back at Harry, indeed he seemed to have completely forgotten about the youth, Dumbledore threw open the door and hurried down the stairs.  
  
Staring blankly in shock, wondering what had just happened, Harry shook his head and raced after the Headmaster. Relentless curiosity demanded he find out what was going on.  
  
Dumbledore and Harry hadn't gone down two halls when Professor McGonagall, trailed by Hermione and Ron, appeared coming towards them. McGonagall skidded to a stop as the Headmaster passed right by her without stopping and turned back around to walk with him.  
  
"Albus?" McGonagall asked, not liking his silence. She knew that Harry had gone to see him, but he was acting as if it were something other than one of the boy's visions. "What's-"  
  
"He knows," Dumbledore interrupted her. Just saying it out loud made the danger seem worse. "He knows and he has summoned Severus to him."  
  
McGonagall gasped and her hands flew to her mouth. So that was it. Severus. Dear Merlin, they couldn't lose him now. "How," she whispered, almost refusing to believe what she had been told. "Not after, everything."  
  
Dumbledore nodded, both his heart and face grave. Their window of time was small. Too small for comfort. "We have to reach him first."  
  
Dumbledore turned slightly and saw that Harry and his friends were still with them. He shook his head. He didn't know what was going to happen and was not about to put the students into danger. "You three go back to your rooms," he said, not slowing but pointed down a hall.  
  
The two adults hurried on, not glancing back to see if the students had obeyed. Harry glanced at Ron who looked over at Hermione. A quick nod from her was all the permission they needed and they continued after the teachers, who seemed to overlook the fact that the children were still with them.  
  
***  
  
It was dark. That was fine, he liked the dark. But he hated nature. Snape growled in frustration as another branch caught his cloak and this time succeeded in dumping the melting snow it had been supporting onto his neck and down his back.  
  
Not that he was unfamiliar to the uncomfortable feeling of cold, slushy ice down his robe. When he had been in school, Potter and his little gang found an excuse to do just that at least once a week during the months snow covered the school grounds, and then once more some time in May or June with a snowball they had preserved just for him.  
  
With a muffled curse, Snape tried to wipe off the snow that still remained on his collar. Then the feel of metal, cold from the snow, stopped him. He realized with a queasy lurch of his stomach, that in his haste to leave he had forgotten to take off the chain.  
  
Snape looked back the way he had come. As if sensing his unease, the wind howled a bit louder as it rushed through the branches of the trees; such a lost, forlorn sound that made him shiver. There was something sinister in the air. He couldn't prove it, nor could he explain it. "It feels bad," he said aloud, wincing at his choice of words.  
  
For a second he debated going back to hide the rather incriminating charm and its chain in his room. But then he shook his head. He was wasting time, dawdling. Delaying the inevitable. He had to answer Voldemort's summon. Everything would be fine. He was just being paranoid again.  
  
'Just think,' he told himself as he pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders to discourage it from catching on anything and looked ahead into the mass of trees, 'Someday you'll look back on all this, laugh nervously, and change the subject.'  
  
Hidden deep in the shadows, practically invisible save for his eyes, Black smothered a snarl and trailed Snape deeper into the Forbidden Forest.  
  
***  
  
Harry was panting with exhaustion as he tried to keep up with Dumbledore. Who would have guessed that the old Wizard was so fast? Harry tried, but for all his athletic training, the Headmaster outdistanced him easily and Harry dropped back to a slower pace beside his friends and an ashen faced Professor McGonagall.  
  
Dumbledore vanished into the trees ahead of them and out of their sight. With a worried frown, Hermione looked back the way they had come and then into the tangle of trees before them. "What are we going to do now?" she asked aloud.  
  
Professor McGonagall's tread faltered a second, almost tripping over a root as she realized that the three students were still following her. But, completely abandoning the thought to take them back herself, she offered the young Granger girl a weak smile. "I know the way to the apparation site as well, Miss Granger. We will find the Headmaster there with Professor Snape and Hagrid."  
  
McGonagall blinked back the tears she felt forming in her eyes. 'Please,' she added silently, 'Please let us find him there.'  
  
***  
  
Snape stepped out into the clearing and was surprised to see two Death Eaters waiting for him. Inwardly he suppressed a shiver. 'I have a bad feeling about this,' he thought to himself.  
  
Outwardly though, he showed no nervousness, just the irritation and dark suspicion that he was famous for. "What are you doing here?" he asked, not bothering to play down his annoyance.  
  
"We were sent to make sure you answered the summon," the taller of the two replied, moving forward to meet him.  
  
Snape took an instinctive step back and scowled. Why was it imperative that he acknowledge this particular summon? "I always answer the Master's call," he replied, sounding offended, "If I am able. They keep tighter tabs on me here than you would expect. If I can not get away, then there is nothing I can do about it."  
  
The other Death Eater shrugged. It sounded reasonable enough to him. But he had his orders. "All the same, we've been sent to make sure you do come to this meeting."  
  
Snape felt an uneasy twinge in his stomach. "Escorts," he sneered. "How thoughtful."  
  
***  
  
There was only one thing on Dumbledore's mind as he raced through the trees, somehow avoiding all the branches that reached out to hold him back; Severus. Somehow, he had to reach him. Just ahead, he saw Hagrid and Fang moving in a steady, lumbering gait, and he called to them.  
  
Hagrid turned around, surprise on his face just visible in the yellow lantern light that cast creepy shadows across his weathered face. "Professor Dumbledore?" Hagrid asked. "Is somethin' the matter, sir?"  
  
"Severus," Dumbledore said shortly, without preamble. "Have you found him yet?" Hagrid shook his head and Dumbledore swallowed a curse.  
  
"We're not far now," Hagrid added, seeing the disappointment and, what.fear? cloud the Headmaster's face. Dumbledore pushed past him and hurried on, leaving Hagrid to follow loyally after him.  
  
"Severus?" Dumbledore called into the woods, praying that his son would hear him, "Severus!"  
  
***  
  
Snape had already rolled up his sleeve, prepared touch the burning mark and apparate to Voldemort's chosen meeting place; to leave the safety of Hogwarts grounds, when he paused and made a small half turn back the way he had come.  
  
"Let's go Snape," the tall Death Eater said sharply. Being so close to Hogwarts made him nervous.  
  
"I thought I heard something," Snape answered, not bothering to look back at the two men who were getting impatient. Then he heard it again. Someone was calling him. His father.  
  
Snape made his mind up at once. "I'm not coming," he said taking a step away from his convoy and pulling his sleeve back down. "The Headmaster is in the woods. He is calling for me. Something must have come up. I have to stay here."  
  
The two men frowned. One, they didn't want to meet up with Dumbledore. Two, they had strict orders to bring Snape with them. "You must come," the shorter man insisted.  
  
Snape rubbed the burning mark on his arm, but stubbornly shook his head. "If I leave, my cover here is blown. I won't go." Snape's wand was in his hand faster than either of the two escorts thought possible, making it clear that he had no intention of going with them.  
  
"Send the Master my apologies," Snape said, slowly backing up, "But tonight is one of those nights I can't get away."  
  
Snape was concentrating so intently on the two men in front of him that he didn't sense the other presence until it was too late. An enormous black dog lunged out of the shadows, his cruel, sharp white teeth reaching for Snape's throat. Snape stumbled backwards in self defense and dropped his wand. The Death Eaters saw their chance, rushed forward and grabbed him.  
  
"Let me go!" Snape yelled, struggling in their unforgiving grip. 'Hear me. Please help me.' But there was no sign of his father. He was just too far away.  
  
"Sorry Snape," the taller Death Eater grunted as Snape tried to elbow him in the stomach. "But the Master has decided it will be our lives if we don't bring you back with us."  
  
That, doing nothing to ease his fear, Snape struggled harder, resisting their attempt to pull him over the apparation line. "Let go!" Through the dark strands of hair that had fallen in his face, Snape could see the large dog sitting to the side, watching. Then his captures succeeded in pulling him over the line with one last jerk and they disappeared.  
  
***  
  
Dumbledore burst through the last of the trees and looked around desperately for his son, the echoes of the young wizard yelling for someone to let go of him still resonating in his head. But Snape was no where to be seen. Only a large black dog who greeted him cheerfully with a wag of his big tail.  
  
Dumbledore ignored Black and picked up Snap's wand from where it had fallen in the struggle he had heard, but had been unable to reach in time. Snape's wand felt cold in his hand. Alder and Phoenix feather, twelve inches long. A powerful combination, indeed. The sight of Snape's wand tore at his heart. There was no possible chance that Snape would have left it behind on purpose.  
  
A quick glance around and Dumbledore saw a green and silver envelope lying on top of the mushy snow, left by the Death Eaters on orders from Voldemort. Dumbledore bent down to retrieve it, shook the snow off the letter, and read the message left for him.  
  
Dumbledore closed his eyes, not allowing himself to think that he would never see his child alive and well again. He wouldn't let that happen. He was not going to fail Severus again.  
  
Dumbledore wasn't sure how long he stood there, lost in his thoughts that stayed with his absent son, but when he turned around, the rest of the group had joined him. The three students (didn't he tell them to go back to their rooms?) looked confused, Hagrid's dark eyes were worried, Professor McGonagall was loosing a battle with tears, and Black.Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. The dog looked proud of himself.  
  
Uncontrollable and irrational rage flooded Dumbledore's system as his vision was blinded by a red haze. His eyes turned diamond hard and bore into Black with furious intensity. "What did you do?"  
  
The people gathered in the clearing flinched at Dumbledore's voice and looked at each other to see who he had directed such a hateful tone at.  
  
"Sirius Black," Dumbledore snapped, crossing his arms across his chest and glaring at the dog. "What did you do!" The dog looked surprised for a second and then shifted back into his human form, ignoring the gasps from Hagrid and McGonagall.  
  
"Well," Black started, giving Dumbledore an innocent smile that wilted under the Headmaster's icy glare; "You keep telling me that Snape is on our side." Black shrugged. He couldn't see why Dumbledore was so upset. It was just Snape. "And he seemed like he wanted to skip a meeting tonight so I," Black smiled to himself, "Merely gave him a push in the right direction."  
  
Harry would later figure that he must have blinked because he would swear he never saw Dumbledore move. One second the Headmaster was listening to Black's account of what had happened to Snape and then next he had pinned the animgus to a tree and had a death grip on his throat.  
  
"I am warning you, Sirius," Dumbledore said, his voice a low, poisonous hiss cutting like knifes through everyone witnessing the alarming scene. "If Severus doesn't come out of this alive, I will personally see your ass back in Azkaban faster than you can say 'Innocent.'"  
  
Black squirmed in Dumbledore rough hold. He had never seem the old Wizard so furious. And it scared him. "I-I didn't think-" Black began weakly but Dumbledore cut him off before he could finish.  
  
"That is your problem, Sirius!" Dumbledore exploded, "You never think. You don't see the consequences of your actions. Those years in prison taught you nothing! You still seem to think you live a charmed life and can do whatever you damn well please."  
  
Black began to choke as Dumbledore' hand got tighter around his throat. "Severus is not going to be victim to your stupidity. Do. You. Understand." Black nodded frantically and Dumbledore released him with a frightening air of detachment.  
  
Black coughed violently, the cold air hurting his lungs even as it relieved him and he slid to the ground, rubbing his throat where bruises were beginning to show.  
  
"Albus? What's going to happen to Severus?" McGonagall asked with a quelled sob as she took pity on her former student, who managed to look quite forlorn, and helped him off the ground. But once he was on his feet, she moved to Dumbledore's side, seeking an answer to her question.  
  
Dumbledore showed her the letter he had found. A snake with burning red eyes had been blazed into the paper. "A timed portkey. I am to go alone and without my wand," Dumbledore said with deepest resolve as his eyes turned somber. "Tom wants to discuss Severus's ransom."  
  
Professor McGonagall shook her head, tears falling from the corners of her eyes. She had little doubt that if Dumbledore answered Voldemort's call, she would never see him, and most likely Severus too, again. In a rush of emotion, she latched onto his arm, teary hazelnut eyes pleading with him. "Ablus, you can't," she sobbed.  
  
Dumbledore calmly removed her desperate grip from his arm with cool aloofness. He was not going to let Voldemort kill his child. "I have no choice."  
  
***  
  
Snape tumbled to the ground with a complete lack of grace as the two Death Eaters abruptly let go of his arms as they appeared in the meeting room. The entire chamber was done in dark green and black with faint traces of silver along the gray stone walls. There was one throne-like seat draped in black silk in the front of the room for the Dark Lord's use. Everyone else was to stand, no matter how long the wait.  
  
Snape angrily pulled himself up off the cold floor, ignoring the part of his mind that was wondering how he was to get back without his wand. Instead, he chose belittlement.  
  
"You idiots!" Snape raged at the two Death Eaters. "Do you have any idea of the trouble I'm going to be in when I go back? I'll be lucky if I'm allowed to keep my position." There, that was good. Make it seem as though if he couldn't spy on Dumbledore that it was their fault.  
  
He had always been good at turning a situation around so that it no longer seemed his fault. That, and Potter and his stupid friends always attacked him when he was alone. One Slytherin against four Gryffindors? It was almost too easy to play the 'outnumbered' card. Never mind the fact that he was more dangerous and knew more curses than all of them put together and when a teacher finally did brake up the fight they looked a hell of a lot worse than he did.  
  
"Severus Snape," a cold, cruel voice said from behind him, "I am pleased you could come." A few of the Death Eaters that had followed Voldemort into the room chuckled nervously. Snape could feel the fear in the air. Something was wrong. Still, he turned and bowed formally to the Dark Lord.  
  
"My Lord," he said, lowering both his voice and eyes in respect even as he was aware of the loose circle that was being formed around him. But it didn't have the feel of the formation they usually stood in when called to their Master's side. This was an execution circle.  
  
Voldemort moved forward and folded his arms across his chest. "Tell me, Severus, what do you know about The Child's Curse?"  
  
At the inquiry, Snape felt his heart beat start to return to normal. The Dark Lord just wanted information about a potion. He could do that. Quickly, Snape racked his mind, calling on all the dusty old texts he had read in his spare time. You know, for fun.  
  
"The Child's Curse is the name given to a Dark Arts potion that was labeled by the Confederacy of Magic as immoral and unethical. It was created during the Dark Ages when warring families wanted a way to protect the heads of their household. Among many rare and forbidden ingredients, the most important is a long bone from the person's oldest child. The bone is used in place of a spoon to stir the potion before it is added in the final step. Once completed, one person can drink the potion. That person will be protected from any spell that the child's parent can cast."  
  
Snape struggled not to fidget. Had he been anyone else's child, he would not have been worried. A quick glance showed that all exits were heavily guarded and without his wand he didn't have a chance in hell.  
  
"An interesting twist to the potion is that if the child was male, the potion will repel the spells of the father. Female and it's the spells of the mother. It was because of this potion that Aurors were created. The earliest Aurors were mercenaries for hire. They worked as assassins for the families whose enemy was protected from their power. The Child's Curse was branded as Dark and Forbidden in 1620. To brew the potion is punishable by expelment from the Magical World."  
  
Voldemort nodded. "Exactly." He began to circle Snape, idly slapping his wand against his hand. "Tell me, Severus," he said with a cruel smile as he lifted Snape's chin with the tip of his wand. "What is you last name?"  
  
Snape swallowed hard and looked up. It was taking all his will to remain still and not bolt for the door. Never mind the fact that it he moved he'd be dead before he took two steps. He had one chance to convince the Dark Lord. "Snape," he answered, glad that his voice did not waver and give himself away.  
  
But if anything, Voldemort seemed more amused. "Liar," he breathed as he stepped back and leveled his wand at Snape's chest.  
  
Wandless, Snape was unable to do anything to defend himself as Voldemort cast the Cruciatus cruse, pausing only long enough for Snape to recover his senses before he cast it again and sent the Potion Master into a new fit of screaming and twitching.  
  
Finally Voldemort relented and waited for Snape to look up. He wanted to see to fear in his enemy's eyes. "Get up," he hissed, making several of the more jumpy Death Eaters flinch.  
  
Snape, still breathing hard, pulled himself to his feet. His face was locked into resolute stubbornness. "My name is Snape," he rasped through abused vocal chords.  
  
Voldemort made a quick motion with his left hand and wands appeared in every hand of the Death Eaters surrounding the room. Snape's dark eyes darted nervously back and fourth.  
  
"Standard counter curse," Voldemort said to his followers, pleased that he could detect a faint drop in color on Snape's face as every wand was focused on him. "On my command. Now."  
  
The combination of the anti-curse sent from over a dozen people caused Snape to collapse back to the ground, clutching his chest, gasping for breath. Voldemort stood back and waited.  
  
He was not disappointed. Snape's hair lightened and lost its loose, stringy appearance as it framed his face in soft curls. Slowly, Snape raised his eyes. More than a few Death Eaters gasped.  
  
"My Severus," Voldemort purred as Snape's fiery blue eyes narrowed in dark hatred, "You truly do have your father's eyes."  
  
"Stay way from me," Snape hissed. Not in the least bothered by the unspoken threat, Voldemort snapped his fingers and two Death Eaters stepped out of the circle and hauled Snape to his feet.  
  
"We must be thankful for men's curiosity," Voldemort said as he pushed the auburn strands of hair out of Snape's face. "If poor," a sneer appeared on the Dark Lord's face, "Unfortunate Walterscot hadn't done such extensive searching, he wouldn't have had anything to tell us before he died. True," he added, "It did take a few tries before I found someone who had the information I wanted."  
  
Snape looked away quickly and Voldemort roughly took hold of Snape's chin and forced his eyes back up.  
  
"I can't make the potion without a Potions Master," Voldemort whispered, "So I have to move to my second option." He leaned closer to Snape. "What would your father give me to get you back?" he murmured into the trapped wizard ear.  
  
"He won't give into your demands," Snape replied, struggling to keep his dignity even as the closeness of the evil wizard was making him feel sick.  
  
Voldemort laughed, a high-pitched laugh that made Snape's skin crawl, and then bushed his dry lips over Snape's cheek. "Dear Severus, it's your life if he doesn't."  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
Author's Note: In regards to Dumbledore's rather violent reaction, I put it in because it relates to what McGonagall said in one of the other chapters about how Snape and Dumbledore have similar ways of displaying anger. Also, it supports Hagrid's belief that Dumbledore can lose it when Snape is in danger. It also gives a reason why Sirius is always doing dumb things (kinda)  
  
Next: Not telling 


	14. Two or Three

Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone. I don't make any money by doing this. It is purely for fun.  
  
Author's Note: I hereby officially apologize for making everyone wait so long. Yes, I know it's been ages since I updated. Thank you for the *cough* reminders.  
  
  
  
Voldemort cared little about the conditions that his prisoners had to endure during the time that he held them in his dungeons. The cell that Snape had been unceremoniously thrown into was cold, damp, filthy, depressingly dark, and only added to his empty feeling of helplessness. And feeling helpless made him angry.  
  
Sitting just outside the cell, keeping guard, Lucius Malfoy looked up as Snape paused in his recitation of every profanity he knew and pulled his knees up to his chest, trying to keep warm. The gray stones that he leaned back against seemed to drain the warmth from his body, leaving only an icy chill of growing dread around his heart.  
  
Malfoy smiled when he saw the other wizard shiver ever so slightly. "Cold?" he asked with a sneer. Snape lifted his head to glare at him and proceeded to call the Death Eater a variety of vulgar names in different languages.  
  
Malfoy just laughed. "You'll regret that," he said, his silver eyes dark with victory. Snape decided to ignore him, and pulled closer to the corner that he had chosen. It wasn't any warmer or comfortable than the other three corners, but he liked to think, no imagine was a better word, he liked to imagine it was cleaner.  
  
Malfoy, hardly caring that he had lost his audience, continued to gloat over Snape's capture. Snape growled a comment once in a while, breaking into Lucius's monologue, but otherwise remained silent. He had more pressing matters to occupy his mind than thinking up insults that would only serve to amuse the older Death Eater.  
  
After pretending to be completely absorbed with the pattern of stones on the cell floor for a few minutes, Snape, peering through his eyelashes, checked on his guard.  
  
Malfoy, still bloody talking, was turned away from him, leaning against the wall and waiting for someone to come down with new orders.  
  
Slowly, so to avoid attracting Malfoy's attention or suspicion, Snape slipped his hand up his sleeve and retrieved the little bottle that he had hidden in the folds of the black material. The tiny bottle fit neatly into his palm and was hidden easily by closing his hand.  
  
Though he didn't want to risk a chance looking at it, Snape knew the phial held a translucent red liquid; a potion of his own recent experiments and research.  
  
Snape shifted uncomfortably against the cold stone wall. Out side the cell, Malfoy continued to prattle loudly about the reward he would receive for being the person who brought Severus Dumbledore to Voldemort to be branded at the age of nineteen, barely a full year out of Hogwarts and stupidly impressionable.  
  
It was almost funny, the irony of it all. Here Lucius Malfoy was expecting a reward, and all he'd be getting would be pain and torture when his prisoner died on his watch. Snape had purposely made the poison quick acting in case someone should notice and try to revive him. Hopefully, it would be painless. From the components of the mixture and tests on rats, it, in theory, would be.  
  
Still, Snape hesitated from drinking the potion in its natural form. Truth be told, he absolutely abhorred the idea of being Volemort's pawn to get at his father, but then suicide had never exactly been high on his 'things to do' list. However, logically, if he hadn't actually thought about it, seriously thought about it, he would have taken on the project of creating the potion in the first place.  
  
It didn't help any that, even though the dungeon was everything an evil Dark Lord could want, the cell the Snape had been placed in was utterly void of rats or other small prison mammals. That ruled out plan B.  
  
It pained his heart, cold and logical as it was, to think of how his father would take his death. It was his deepest wish not to cause the wizard any more grief, but what choice did he have?  
  
A sudden idea flashed through Snape's mind in the middle of his brooding and he looked up quickly. His guard was still talking loudly about the pain to be suffered when the Dark Lord had a moment to spare.  
  
Snape's eyes flickered to the elder Malfoy and then back to the potion concealed in his hand. It was a crazy idea, but it might work. With great care, Snape unfolded himself from the dark corner and, without making a single tell tale sound, slunk over to the bared door of the cell.  
  
***  
  
Every Death Eater in Voldemort's castle, excluding his prisoner and guard, had assembled in the main room so that they might be present when Dumbledore arrived.  
  
Dumbledore's appearance in the room brought a sudden hush over the occupants. A few of the Death Eaters moved nervously in the background as they watched the tall wizard calmly observe his surroundings. Then a few whispers started, then more; whispers among the Death Eaters and jeers at Dumbledore. The old wizard didn't seem so omnipotent now.  
  
Dumbledore for his part, refused to acknowledge the men and women in black who began to form a half circle at his back. He kept his eyes trained forward and on the one who held his son's life in his too cruel spidery hands. Dumbledore lifted his chin in a defiant gesture characteristic of his son. He intended to perform this deadly dance with some scrap of his pride and dignity.  
  
Voldemort sneered at the older wizard from his seat and stood gracefully, the black robe he wore surrounding him like an extra shadow that bespoke of impending doom. "Albus Dumbledore," the Dark Wizard purred as he moved forward to meet his former teacher.  
  
This was what he had been waiting for. He could have easily killed his prisoner, waited for Dumbledore to show up, and then kill him too, but this was a better way. It made for a more satisfying revenge; to bring the illustrious wizard down by using the man's greatest weakness against him. It was truly a moment of triumph for Lord Voldemort.  
  
Dumbledore inclined his silvered head slightly, acknowledging Voldemort's presence, but not giving any authority. To do so would be to invite death and defeat. Instead, Dumbledore held his calm blue gaze steady, his sharp eyes never leaving the narrow, evil face. "Tom," he finally said simply, breaking the locked silence, "I believe you have something of mine."  
  
Voldemort's face broke into a twisted seer. "Yours," he hissed, wanting to laugh at the pompous allegation, "You abandoned him, just like my father," he spat out the bitter word, "did me. You have no right to call him yours." Voldemort saw the quick look of pain flash through Dumbledore's eyes and knew that he had hit a sore spot. The Dark Lord smiled, taking pleasure in the other wizard's distress. "Severus belongs to me," Voldemort announced confidently. His to let live, or to kill at his convince.  
  
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed and he folded his arms across his chest, all the emotions he had been trying to hide from view breaking through every barrier. "Mine," he snapped, his eyes flashing dangerously, "He is my child. No claim you can make will ever, ever change that. Severus will always be mine." The unspoken challenge hung in the air between them, waiting, suspended.  
  
Voldemort watched the older wizard for a moment, and when Dumbledore didn't attempt to gather himself, the Dark Lord smiled, such a cold, thin smile. Dumbledore was thinking and acting with his heart. Voldemort couldn't have planned it better. The wizard had signed his own death sentence. "Would you give your life, to save his?"  
  
Dumbledore nodded immediately. He had expected the ultimatum and was ready to accept it. A life given for a life saved. Gruesome arithmetic of the Devil. "Yes."  
  
Voldemort glided closer, his followers inching forward to hear him. "Then prove it," the Dark Lord whispered.  
  
Dumbledore glared at him. "Do not think me stupid, Tom. I will watch you send Severus back first." He was not about to give the Dark Lord a loophole where he could send Snape back to Hogwarts, dying but technically still alive for the moment, and then claim that he had followed through with his part of the bargain.  
  
Voldemort's fiery eyes flashed in annoyance. He was the one in charge, the one with the power over the situation, not Dumbledore. "You are not in a position to be making demands," Voldemort snapped.  
  
A slow, dangerous smile appeared on Dumbledore face. "Just because I came without a wand doesn't mean that I'm unarmed," he said. A sudden and fierce chilling wind like the breath of death whirled through the hall, swirling the Headmaster's robe and making the torch flames dance crazily as they were threatened with being snuffed out. A frightened Death Eater in back cried out in alarm.  
  
The wind left as quickly as it had appeared, but still left an ominous feeling in the room, like skeletal fingers creeping forward to caress the nape of your neck. Voldemort's followers had begun to eye Dumbledore wearily. "There are ancient magicks that you know nothing about," Dumbledore lectured the Dark Lord sharply, as if the evil wizard was still his student, "You would be wise to remember that before you threaten me with Severus's life."  
  
Voldemort scowled, irked that any of the situation should slip beyond his control. He whirled on the two nearest Death Eaters, who snapped to attention. "Go get the prisoner," he growled.  
  
The two Death Eaters quickly scurried off to do as their master bid them and returned shortly, dragging Snape along by the heavy, cold iron chains they had locked around his wrists. The Potions Master was putting up a valiant attempt to hinder their efforts in forcing him along, but was undeniably losing the struggle.  
  
Voldemort took Snape's chains and arranged the glowering man in front of him as security. Snape shuddered and tried to pull away, only to be forcibly held in place as Voldemort secured an arm around his waist.  
  
Dumbledore, a mix of anger and fear for his child playing out on his face, made a small start forward.  
  
Voldemort, at once taking the sudden movement as a sign of attack, pulled Snape closer against him and held his wand against the Potion Master's pale throat. "Not another step, Dumbledore," Voldemort hissed, twisting the tip of his wand into the vulnerable pulse point and causing a thin dribble of blood to flow down Snape's neck, "or he dies."  
  
Dumbledore froze at once and closed his eyes for a second. "Let him go, Tom," he whispered. His eyes opened again, resignation and determination emanating from the mysterious blue depths. "I will surrender. Just, let him go."  
  
Voldemort sneered at the plea. How he was going to enjoy killing the old wizard. As for losing Snape, he'd just have a team pick him up later when he was out of the sanctuary of Hogwarts. Voldemort was about to accept Dumbledore's submission, when the air in the room suddenly seemed charged with lightening.  
  
"Expelliarmus Totalus!" a voice roared from somewhere behind the circle of Death Eaters that had been watching the proceedings so intently. Voldemort was shocked to have his wand, along with every wand of his minions, yanked away by an invisible hand. The Death Eaters, now unarmed, parted fearfully to let their Lord see the caster of the spell.  
  
Surrounded by pieces of wands shattered at the force of his spell, Voldemort's own wand captured in his left hand, and still another wand in the other, was Snape. His gem like eyes were cold and determined and the small sliver charm resting against his chest stood out brilliantly against his black garments. The Death Eaters scattered quickly out of his way as he approached.  
  
Snape placed a thin, pale hand on a shocked Dumbledore's shoulder for a second to reassure the older wizard and then turned his full attention on the fuming Dark Lord. "Sir," Snape said, his voice dripping with mockery as he took in the situation. "You might want to let go of Lucius. He's starting to look blue."  
  
Voldemort barred his teeth at Snape but loosened his hold on the neck of the person in front of him who, now released, stood quietly, his eyes blank. All former struggle was gone and he seemed to be awaiting new orders.  
  
Snape folded his arms across his chest, looking quite pleased with himself. "Amazing potion really," he drawled, "One of my own experiments. It can be used as a quick acting poison," next to him Dumbledore looked startled, but Snape continued on as if he hadn't noticed,  
  
"Or a kind of Polyjuice Potion, if a mammal hair is added. Only, it's adapted for not only human transformation, but animal too. Unfortunately, once the hair is added, the potion must be taken within five minutes, or it won't work. It has a long shelf life, as a poison, and takes less than half the time that is required to brew the Polyjuice Potion." Snape shrugged his thin shoulders. "A back door to those in my kind of position. Able to offer a chance to live, or a quick death. Whichever is needed."  
  
Voldemort only stared at him, surprise giving way to slight embarrassment and dark, frothing rage. A red haze was clouding his vision and he wanted to kill something. Dumbledore and his impertinent brat, preferably.  
  
"Next time you have an important prisoner," Snape hissed, dropping his pleasanter tone, "You might want to place more than one inept guard on watch duty." With a quick wave from the wand he had stolen from Malfoy, Snape released the Imperius Curse and Malfoy shook his head, his eyes clearing as control of his body was returned to him.  
  
Uncertainly, Malfoy looked around and then his eyes, currently the Dumbledore blue, fastened on Snape and his face flushed a dark red in sheer fury as he remembered what had happened. "You, you filthy fucking bastard! I'm going to." Malfory was cut off abruptly as Snape cast another spell, taking away his voice.  
  
"I'd rather not hear myself insult me," Snape growled as Malfoy seethed in silence. Then he raised the wand to Dark Lord. "Now, sir," he began conversationally, "I want the dark mark off."  
  
Voldemort was taken aback for a moment at the calm declaration and then laughed. Of all the pointless pleas made by his victims before he killed them, this was by far the most fantastic. "Never."  
  
Oddly, Snape didn't seemed upset at his outright refusal and simply shrugged. "You will remove it," he returned calmly, "Or I will kill you."  
  
Voldemort narrowed his red eyes at the young wizard in front of him, wondering if there was any honesty in his cool remark. Snape held his gaze evenly. Then Voldemort sneered. "You, young Dumbledore," he said, mocking the name, "You don't have the nerve to do it."  
  
Snape's eyes sparkled with some unreadable emotion. Without breaking eye contact, he brought the stolen wand in his right hand down sharply. "Crucio," he hissed and watched unemotionally as Malfoy went down in a fit of silent pain and twitching.  
  
Snape held the curse for a few seconds and then lifted it, leaving Malfoy gasping for air. Snape whipped the wand back up at Voldemort. "You forget," he whispered, "I am a Slytherin."  
  
"The way I see it is," Snape added, twirling one of the wands idly in his hand, "If you remove the mark, I am rid of it forever and you are in no way disadvantaged. If you make me kill you, you are out of power for another decade or so, making your followers doubt your strength even more while I am rid of both you and the mark for that time while you are powerless. True, if you return to power again, I am still branded. I have already performed two out of three forbidden curses tonight so the paramount question is," he aimed the wand steadily at Voldemort's chest, at the Dark Wizard's hellish heart. "Do I make it three for three?"  
  
The room was silent for a long minute and then Voldemort laughed. He had underestimated the young wizard this time. It would not happen again. "You certainly are a Slytherin," he purred, "Are you sure this is what you want?"  
  
Snape glared at him. "Ambition," he snapped, "Means that you will do or sacrifice anything to achieve what you desire. I never wanted power or wealth or prestige or fame or any of that. My whole life, my greatest ambition was to find my family and make them regret abandoning me by being exactly what they wanted." He shook his head, a sad sort of ironic smile touching his lips and he spared a glance back at his father. "I did not turn out perfect, far from it. But I have found my family, and I will be damned before I give that up."  
  
Voldemort sneered. Unquestionably a Slytherin, and yet still definitely a Dumbledore. "My wand back, and I will remove you from my ranks."  
  
Snape held out his left arm, exposing the grisly mark blazed on his white forearm. "Free me first," he demanded. Voldemort, his teeth bared, hissed out a spell and Snape gasped softly in pain as a green vapor rose from his skin and vanished, leaving his arm an unsoiled, pale color.  
  
Snape inspected his arm, nodded, and then chucked the wand forward, aiming over the Dark Lord's shoulder. But Voldemort was fast and with a quick turn, caught it in mid air. With a triumphant cry, he turned the point on Dumbledore and his son, intending to kill them both with one spell, and was just in time to see the older wizard clutch the younger against him and disappear from the room.  
  
Furious, Voldemort turned to see Malfoy, still looking identical to Snape because of the potion, cower back from him. "Lucius," Voldemort hissed, turning towards the pathetic excuse for a man, "Come here. I want to talk to you."  
  
***  
  
McGonagall looked down at her wand, the thing clasped tightly in her hands, when she heard a distinct pop that accompanied those who have apparated. She wasn't sure she wanted to know which one of them had returned. Not knowing gave her a clinging hope that they would both be returned alive and in one piece.  
  
That was not to say, that waiting wasn't hell in itself. Minutes stretch on for hours, but in the end, don't last long enough.  
  
The forest had been quiet while they had anticipated the activation of the portkey and the Headmaster's departure. No one said anything, though every once in a while, Miss Granger would get an odd look on her face, as if she were trying to figure something out. After Dumbledore had left, the silence among those remaining had become deafening.  
  
Finally, not knowing becoming too difficult a battle, McGonagall forced her eyes up and gasped in delighted surprise. Standing a little ways apart from the group were the Headmaster and his son, both looking, Merlin be praised, very much alive.  
  
Snape pushed out of the Headmaster's hold, his whole body radiating fury. "What the hell do you think you were doing?"  
  
Dumbledore folded his arms across his chest and peered over his glasses at the angry wizard. "I think I was saving your life, Severus."  
  
From the group of onlookers, Hagrid suddenly became very pale under his black beard. Nearby, Hermione, a wild light in her eyes, was fidgeting around. Finally, unable to contain herself, she turned to the person nearest her, Black, and pulled on his sleeve, drawing him down to her level and whispered her revelation to him. Black looked over at the two arguing wizards and his eyes became very large. A strange sort of strangled noise came out of his throat, and then he fainted.  
  
Snape and Dumbledore continued on as if they hadn't noticed the group watching them.  
  
"Saving my life!?" Snape screeched, incredulous. "He was going to kill you. Do you understand that?"  
  
Dumbledore nodded, his patience wearing thin. "Of course I do. My life for yours." He caught Snape face and held the man still. "I could not have lived with myself if I let you die," Dumbledore said, softer this time, "Do you understand?"  
  
Snape wrenched away. "Do you understand, sir," he snapped back, "That I would not have been able to live with myself if you had taken my place?" He threw his hand up into the air, "Do you know the number of people that have died because of me, even if indirectly?" He began ticking off names and stopped abruptly when he had used both hands and glared accusingly. "Hell you could even count the two men sent to Azkaban for 'killing me' as dead because of me."  
  
Snape shook his head, his blue eyes obstinate. "I will not allow anyone, you included, to die for me," he added with a hiss. "Have you any idea what kind of living Hell my poor excuse for a life would become? To be the person who caused your death? I would be, if it is even possible, hated more for that than anything I've done. People count on you, look up to you. You do not betray that trust by getting killed for one evil, ugly Slytherin." He turned away from the Headmaster with an angry huff. "Maybe it would have been better if I were never born at all."  
  
Dumbledore took hold of Snape's shoulders and forced him back around. "Never say that," he spat out, his eyes boring into those of his son's. Then he gathered the wizard into his arms, holding him protectively. "Never say that," he whispered fiercely.  
  
Snape regretted what he had said. His mouth had a habit of opening before his mind could catch up. He had upset his father with his careless words. That he honestly regretted. "I'm sorry," Snape finally said, barely raising his voice enough for the Headmaster to hear.  
  
"I know. I am too," Dumbledore answered, hushing the younger wizard when he tried to protest that the Headmaster had nothing to apologize for.  
  
At last, Dumbledore reluctantly loosened his hold on his child, shed his cloak, and placed it on the younger wizard whose protest went ignored. After making sure that the clasp was secure the Headmaster gently nudged Snape forward. "Let's go," he said.  
  
Snape blinked, visibly startled. Sputtering, his mind raced for a logical protest. "I can't go back like, like this!" He made a vague gesture towards his face and hair, "My students-"  
  
"Will only find out the truth from those who have Death Eater parents," Dumbledore said. Snape frowned. Dumbledore added, with a slightly chiding tone, "They will appreciate hearing the truth from you first."  
  
Snape scowled, more annoyed with himself for not being able to come up with a good excuse quick enough. "And what would you know about telling the truth?" he asked the Headmaster nastily.  
  
Dumbledore just smiled and gave the reluctant wizard a little push to get him moving. "That's enough from you," he said, cutting into Snape's stalling.  
  
Snape managed to look thoroughly insulted. "What? It's not like anyone listens to me anyway."  
  
Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "Of course they don't, Severus. You're obnoxious and disliked." It was rare indeed, when someone other than himself would ask for the Potion Master's opinion. Snape, of course, had combated this situation early on by giving his opinion freely and without being asked.  
  
Snape tried to look irritated, but finally shook his head. "Well, at least things are consistent." Dumbledore had now managed to move Snape a few feet forward. Snape's eyes suddenly narrowed as he saw the group watching them. "What are they doing here," he demanded, scowling at the Headmaster and pointing to the three Gryffindor students.  
  
Dumbledore looked over his glasses at the students, who had the grace to look embarrassed. "I don't know, I told them to go back to their rooms," he answered. Hermione dropped her head in shame.  
  
Snape rolled his eyes. "Just great," he muttered, folding his arms across his chest in a decided sulk.  
  
Dumbledore nodded kindly to McGonagall. "Get them back to their rooms, Minerva," he said. McGonagall, snapping back into teacher mode, nodded and moved closer to her charges. Dumbledore put a kind hand on his son's shoulder, a gesture that wasn't, to his comfort, shaken off. "Come Severus," he said gently, "I'll take you home."  
  
***  
  
TBC  
  
SEE? I updated (Dear Merlin! I updated!). TBC does mean To Be Continued. Only one more chapter left.  
  
Author's Note: Justifying Snape's use of the Unforgivables. As a friend of mine pointed out to me, Snape was a Death Eater at one time. He would have used the curses. And during his time as a willing participant, he would have seen (and most likely done) some terrible things. Here he used the curses in an effort to protect his own life and also his father's. He may not like using them, but he can justify the use.  
  
Baby Disclaimer: The line recognized from the movie and play 1776 is not my own.  
  
Looking ahead: Severus's mother will not be part of this story. She is, however, a major part in the (yet unnamed) sequel. 


	15. In the End

Disclaimer: For the last time! It's not mine!

The next day at breakfast, the first noticeable sign of the previous night's events was the absence of the entire Slytherin student body. Further examination brought the revelation that the Slytherin Head of House was not present either. 

No explanation was given or offered until shortly after the morning meal had appeared on the tables. Professor McGonagall called for silence and Dumbledore stood up to address the school. He stood silently for a moment, just looking out at the students, though his thoughts were with the fourth not present and his heart with their teacher.

Finally, Dumbledore began. "I have something to confess," he said. Seated around him, he knew the teachers were confused; they were usually told ahead of time if he planned to address the school during a meal.

"Years ago," Dumbledore continued steadily, "The Magical World was informed about the death of my son." Looking down the table, Dumbledore could see several of the teachers turn deathly pale. They were the ones who remembered.

"I have to confess," Dumbledore said, raising his voice to cut off the whispers that had begun amongst the students, "That I lied to them, and so to you. I hid my child to keep him safe and because of this he is still alive." 

Now a few of the teachers looked ready to faint and the students were rapt with interest. Dumbledore pressed on. "Recent circumstances have dictated that it is time for my son resume his true identity and for everyone to know who he truly is." 

Dumbledore paused briefly and smiled at the school. He was not expecting an enthusiastic response, but that didn't matter. "From this moment on," he announced, his voice taking on a powerful proclaiming resonance, "Let it be known that the man who has been Severus Snape was born and is forever more Severus Deidrick Dumbledore." 

Stunned silence reverberated around the room. "Enjoy your meal," he quipped and sat back down. McGonagall gave him a reassuring smile and then followed his example and began her breakfast.

Slowly the occupants of the room shook off their shock. Hushed whispers began to fill the hall, students and teachers alike eyeing the Headmaster as if he had just leapt onto the table while reciting Shakespeare. Snape? Snape was Dumbledore's son…impossible! Hagrid, with fat tears rolling down his cheeks, kept asking if it was true, and Dumbledore assured him it was.

Dumbledore's announcement was public knowledge before noon. McGonagall couldn't prove it, but she was sure that one of the staff had a very nosy younger sister who worked for The Daily Prophet. 

With in hours Ministry personnel, including Minister Fudge himself, arrived to find out for themselves if what they had heard was true and to get the complete story from the Headmaster himself. Dumbledore answered their questions with amazing patience but, to their disappointment, refused to allow them to speak to or see his son. 

Many of the Ministry folk kept their eyes open when walking around the school to see if they could find one of Slytherin students, but they continued to be absent from meals and classes. It was three full days before anything was seen of a single Slytherin child or their teacher. 

************************************************************************

McGonagall took her customary seat next to the Headmaster and noticed that he was looking particularly annoyed. The reason for that was sitting next to him. Fudge was back, no doubt pressing his concern for Dumbledore's mental state. 

But McGonagall knew that her friend had more pressing matters on his mind than what the Ministry and the rest of the Magical World thought about him. He had confessed to her that he had agreed to let his son handle his students his own way. He hadn't heard from Severus since the Slytherin students hadn't shown up that first day, and the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room was locked.

McGonagall gave her friend a sympathetic smile shook her head. Minister Fudge continued to talk loudly even after breakfast appeared on the table. McGonagall didn't know how Dumbledore managed to put up with that whiny little man. Merlin knew that the Headmaster wouldn't be blamed for hexing the Minister permanently mute. If he didn't already have the Order of Merlin, First Class, he could certainly obtain it with that action. 

Then again, he was renowned as the only one able to put up with Severus's whining; maybe he was immune to such noise now.

Or maybe he only tolerated whining from the Potions Master, McGonagall mused as she watched Dumbledore slowly bend a fork on the table in half as the unaware Minister launched into another monologue on why it was most urgent that Severus be tested for his parentage at the soonest possible date.

McGonagall had just begun her meal when the main doors flew open with a crash that resonated through the hall. Slowly, a smile found its way to her lips. She stole a quick glance at Dumbledore and saw that his annoyance with the Minister was forgotten and that everything had given way to relief.

The rest of the room had fallen deathly silent, disrupted only by a loud thump as Neville Longbottom bell off his seat and landed on the floor. He didn't bother to pick himself up but rather opted to remain where he was.

Standing just inside the doors, Severus regarded the school with a silent and indifferent expression as the early morning light streamed in from the windows and caused the red in his hair to sparkle. 

Once he had allowed the school its chance to stare at him, Severus calmly stood aside and watched the Slytherin students file sullenly past him to their table and seats. Once they were all seated, Severus made his way up to the Head Table. 

McGonagall smiled encouragingly at him and watched as he paused behind Minister Fudge's chair. Fudge looked completely dumbfounded. He hadn't counted on Severus looking so much like his father, that much was evident.

Slowly, Severus leaned forward until he and the Minister were at eye level. "You are in my seat," Severus hissed. Fudge fairly leapt to his feet; his face flustered, and moved to an empty spot further down the table, but not so far that he couldn't keep an eye on the Slytherin teacher.

Severus pulled his black robes closer to his body and took the vacated seat on the Headmaster's left. Smiling warmly, Dumbledore placed his hand over his son's and squeezed it gently before letting go to hand him a clean plate. Severus took it from him with a small nod. 

Taking the initiative, McGonagall began a conversation with Dumbledore, breaking the shocked silence that Severus's entrance had caused. Gradually, the students and teachers resumed what they had been doing. Neville finally picked himself up off the floor and returned to his proper seat.

At the Head Table, Severus ate little and it was not long before he excused himself and disappeared out the door. The Headmaster remained at the table only long enough to swallow the last of the tea in his cup before getting up and following him. 

Watching the Headmaster leave, the rest of the staff fidgeted in their chairs. McGonagall, gathering her patience, resolved not to follow her friend even though she was dying to know where Severus and his students had been. She knew Dumbledore needed some time to speak to Severus alone first. She'd give them ten minutes. 

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As soon as he was out of the public eye, Severus led the mask fall. His proud stance collapsed and his eyes lost their focus as exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him. Trying to keep moving, he nearly fell, tripping over his own feet, when his father was suddenly beside him, supporting him. 

"Severus," Dumbledore said, the earlier concern coming back with a vengeance, "My child, what's wrong?"

Severus shook his head and clung to his father's arm. "Just tired," he whispered, closing his eyes and leaning against the older wizard. "Just tired."

"Tired!" Dumbledore exclaimed, wrapping an arm around his son's shoulders. "Severus, you are beyond tired."

Severus didn't even have the energy to shrug. He sighed and slowly opened his eyes. "Try locking yourself in with the entire Slytherin House when they are angry with you and see if you feel that it's safe to fall asleep."

Dumbledore gently pushed a soft strand of auburn hair out of Severus's exhausted blue eyes. He knew there was a lot that he and Severus needed to discuss, but it wasn't imperative to do so right now. "We'll talk about that later. Right now you need to get some sleep." Dumbledore smiled, and held up a hand to ward off Severus's next question. "And don't worry, I'll charm the door so that your colleagues can't bother you."

"Thank you," Severus replied as his eyes began to close again.

*******************************************************************

The next day the Potions Professor failed to show up for breakfast again, but the Headmaster assured the school that he'd be teaching.

"Have you seen Hermione?" Ron asked Harry as they headed down to the dungeons for their class.

Harry shook his head. "Not since breakfast. And she's still not talking to anyone," he reminded his friend.

Ron winced. "Right. I almost forgot." 

The other evening there had been an emergency meeting in the Gryffindor Common Room. Everyone in their House had been present to discuss their 'new teacher'. There had been a lot of debate but finally everyone had decided that Professor Snape had been an act and that Potions was about to become a lot more bearable. 

Except Hermione. She still clung to her theory that the Potions Professor had not changed. For once, everyone disagreed with her. That of course, put her in a foul mood.

Ron pushed open the door to the Potions classroom and looked in. "Hey," he said turning back around to Harry, "She's already here."

Harry and Ron took their seats near their female friend who already had her books open around her. "Morning Hermione!" Ron said, trying to hard to be cheerful.

Hermione turned slowly. "Good morning," she answered, not attempting to mask her annoyance. Then she turned sharply, hitting Ron in the face with her hair, and went back to her book.

Ron looked at Harry and shrugged. He had tried to be nice, and she hit him with her hair on purpose! He just didn't get girls and their moods. He had a feeling that he never would.

Students began trickling into the room and an instant difference was seen between the students from the two houses. The Gryffindors entered their Potions classroom cheerfully for the first time and were chatting with one another at full volume. The Slytherins, however, found their seats immediately and sat there, some with arms folded across their chests, sulking.

Ron couldn't keep from grinning when he saw Malfoy scowl as he took his seat near Crabbe and Goyle. After enduring Snape's wrath for years, it was wonderful to know that the Slytherin weren't going to be favored anymore. He couldn't help but gloat a little. 

"So how is your new Head of House?" Ron called to Malfoy. Several Slytherins glared at him and Pansy turned around and with a snarl told Ron where to stick his wand. But Malfoy ranked his short nails across his desktop and didn't say anything. 

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Severus swore again, and forced himself into a walk. It would not be dignified to been seen running through the dungeons. But being late would be even more humiliating. He had slept most of the previous day waking briefly a few times before falling back to sleep. But his father hadn't felt that was quite enough and had removed his alarm clock so that he would sleep in. 

Severus quickly opened the door to his office and dumped the books in his arms on the table. Through the opposite door he could see the students as they waited for the bell to ring. Severus reached for the charm around his neck and found that the chain was caught on his clothes. Cursing under his breath, he untangled it, and then tried to smooth his hair flat. 

The bell rang just as Severus walked into the classroom. He went directly to the chalkboard and began writing on it. Behind him, the class continued to talk. Severus turned and folded his arms across chest, glaring. When the class continued to ignore him, he turned back to the board and dragged his fingernails across the blackboard, drawing out the horrible screeching noise as long as he could.

The students clasped their hands to their ears and hollered in protest before falling silent. With the classroom effectively quiet, Severus pointed to what he had written on the board. "As now both the Headmaster and I respond to Dumbledore, you must say Professor when referring to me and Headmaster for him." With the chalk, he underlined his family name on the board. "Don't forget." With that, he assigned their project and settled down at his desk to grade papers.

Ron glanced uneasily at Harry, who shrugged. Slowly Harry got out a cauldron and they began. Everything was quiet for awhile as the students went about preparing the potion. Experimentally, the Gryffindors were a bit chatty. The display by their teacher had shaken their confidence but they weren't ready to abandon their hope. The Slytherins remained sullen and many of them shot angry glares in Professor Dumbledore's direction.

Severus, for his part, ignored the entire class and directed his focus on a pile of neglected paperwork.

Fifteen minutes had passed easily when Neville came to a halt. Crossing his fingers for luck, he tossed a few spiders' legs into the potion and winced as it turned a light shade of lavender. Was it supposed to do that? 

A worried glance around showed that everyone else's potion had turned a bright orange. Desperately, Neville looked around for Hermione. She was in her corner, mumbling to herself, totally engrossed in her work. Was she was still mad her at housemates? Probably, Neville figured.

Finally, seeing no alternative, Neville took a deep breath and called out timidly, "Professor Snape?"

Severus didn't even pause in his work. Without lifting his head he simply replied, "Five points from Gryffindor."

A few of the Gryffindors nearest him paused their work in unhappy surprise. Neville looked back at his potion, it was smoking now. "Professor Snape?" he tried again.

"Five points from Gryffindor," the teacher answered.

The potion was starting to smell funny now and the whole class had backed away from it in case it should decide to explode, as Neville's potions had a tendency to do. Frightened by both the state of the potion and his classmates' reactions, Neville yelped, "Professor Snape!"

Severus looked up and with a nasty sneer replied, "Five points from Gryffindor," and then returned pointedly to his work.

Having hurried to Neville's side, Hermione suddenly remembered. "Professor Dumbledore!" she called.

Now the Potions Master stood and, sparing Neville a loathing glare, marched over to the very sad looking potion and zapped the mixture away with his wand before turning viciously on the poor Gryffindor that had a unfortunately poor talent with the subject. 

"Why didn't you call me sooner, Mr. Longbottom?" Severus hissed, disgust written clearly on his face. 

Neville let out an odd, disbelieving squeak. 

Severus gestured to the still smoking cauldron. "Tell me, did you just sit there and watch it burn for fun or are you just a complete idiot?" 

Neville looked hopelessly at Hermione and then back at the teacher. "I-I-" he tried to start.

"Silence!" Severus snapped, "I have decided that I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses for your incompetence. Fifteen points from Gryffindor. Now," he pointed to the cauldron. "Start over." With that, he stomped back over to his desk and scribbled something that looked suspiciously like a failing grade on the top paper.

On the Slytherin side of the room, the students looked at Malfoy, the unanimous leader of their year, to see how he responded. The blond Slytherin only shrugged and went back to work. Still, even as angry as he still was with his Head of House, he did have to admit it was nice to see some of his old teacher in this blue-eyed Dumbledore.

Severus didn't stay long at his desk before he was up again, patrolling the class. Points were dolled out to the Slytherins and were points taken off the Gryffindors at a rate previously unseen.

It wasn't until class was nearly over that another major incident occurred. Most of the students were coming to the most difficult and most crucial step in preparing the potion correctly. The class had been studying the technique, but that didn't mean it was easy.

Goyle looked uncertainly at his potion. It was a little weak and a little watery, but it had managed to hold up so far. Slowly, he reread the instructions in the book and looked at the ingredients spread over his workspace. Finally, shaking his head, he looked for his Head of House. "Professor Snape?" he called. Severus paused in the critiquing of Lavender's potion and went over to stand next to Goyle's cauldron. 

"I'm sorry," the Professor started, "I didn't hear you correctly." Goyle blinked in confusion. Malfoy quickly nudged him in the gut and pointed with the tip of the knife in his hand at the board. 

"Oh, sorry," Goyle said quickly, as if speed could erase what had already been said, "Professor Dumbledore," the teacher nodded for him to continue. "I need help," Goyle admitted as he gestured to his workspace.

Malfoy looked from the Potions Master to the irritated Gryffindor students. His own potion was almost done and he figured that now was as good a time as any to test a theory. Slowly Malfoy stood up, his wand in his hand and a bat wing dangling in the other.

Malfoy waited until the teacher looked up from the student cauldrons and saw him. Then Malfoy took careful air and threw the bat wing into Harry's nearly finished potion while sending a hex at Ron. 

Before Harry could open his mouth to protest, the potion exploded, showering him in a very smelly, goopy mixture. Hermione shrieked as a dark gray elephant trunk suddenly sprouted from Ron's face and white rabbit ears sprouted comically from the sides of his head. 

The Slytherins roared in laughter. "Professor!" Harry yelled in outrage, trying to shake off the potion that he was covered in. 

Severus leaned against the student table and crossed his arms across his chest. "Problem Potter?" he asked almost innocently before gesturing to the disaster. 

Harry motioned to his filthy clothes and then to his friend's ears and trunk. "Look at when he did!" he said, pointing an accusing finger at Malfoy. 

Malfoy smirked and shrugged his shoulders.

The Potions Master smiled evilly. "I didn't see anything," he said, reminding Malfoy eerily of the Headmaster. "But your potion is ruined and you do not have time to start over. 20 points from Gryffindor for incompetence and the mess that you will be cleaning up during your detention." 

Harry gaped at the teacher open mouthed. "You can't do that!" he shouted, the words coming out of his mouth before he could stop them. The Potions Master straightened slowly, anger building in his blue eyes. 

Ron swallowed hard. He knew that look. Seems Hermione was right. Damn. "Been nice knowing you, Harry," Ron whispered. 

Severus walked slowly over to the nervous Gryffindor, time stretching on forever. The students around them were completely silent with fear and expatiation. "If you have a problem with the way I teach my class, Mr. Potter," Severus hissed, causing the boy to jump, "I suggest you take your complaint to the Headmaster." 

Malfoy snickered at the pale, furious look on Harry's face. Who in their right mind was actually going to go complain to Dumbledore when the one they were complaining about was the man's _son_. Harry might be a superstar, but shit! The Dumbledores were practically the equivalent of Wizarding Royalty.

"10 points from Gryffindor," Severus said, moving back to his desk, "Because I feel like it." 

The Gryffindors looked ready to kill, but there was nothing they could do at the moment. Angry and humiliated, they returned to their work.

Hermione, forgiving her friends for doubting her, risked death to get permission to take Ron to the hospital and promised Neville what help she could give without getting caught when she got back. 

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Severus was relieved when the day was finally over. He had taken a total of 186 points from the three houses (92 of those points from Gryffindor) and awarded his house with 54.

Now he was looking forward to hiding from everyone for the rest of the night. 'Hiding,' he thought to himself. That wasn't his word, it was one his father liked to use to describe his absences. He 'removed himself from aggravating company.' He never hid from anyone. Minerva, of course, doesn't count.

"Professor?" 

Severus looked up, almost startled; he hadn't been aware that someone had entered the room. He must be really tired if he hadn't noticed the door opening and a person coming inside.

Severus watched the student for a second, wondering what the impromptu meeting could be about, and then decided just to ask. "Yes Draco?"

The Slytherin student paused for a second, as if he wasn't sure what he wanted to say. Severus tried his best to wait patiently. Shame patience wasn't something he had in great quantity. 

Finally Draco looked up and met his teacher's eyes without wavering. "How long are you going to keep this up?" he asked.

Severus began cleaning up the potions ingredients that had been used from the student cabinet, needing to do something other than stand still. "The obsessive point deduction and detention?" he asked his student as he put the jar of cat ears back into the cupboard, "Probably not very long. As soon as one of the Gryffindors show some of the bravery they are supposed to be famous for, the Headmaster will ask me stop." 

Severus looked over his shoulder to make sure Draco was still listening to him. "The Headmaster, of course, knows that I'm doing it in the first place."

Draco snorted in something Severus could neither identify as humor or disgust. Perhaps it was a little of both.

So _now_ he decides to favor the Slytherins," Draco growled, his cold gray eyes narrowing.

"Don't be arrogant," Severus warned him with a sharp snap that made the student flinch. "Slytherins have always been treated specially by Headmaster Dumbledore."

"But my Father said that when you were in school," Draco started to protest when the Potions Master cut him off.

"When I was in school," Severus corrected him, "I was the uncontested favorite student of the Headmaster. It bothered the hell out of students and teachers alike. That is why they treated me the way they did. I could never understand why I was drawn to him. The fact that he treated me better than any one I had ever known was not enough to make me seek out his company. I was always weary of kindness, yet I trusted him completely from the moment he first spoke to me, shortly after the feast on my first day."

"So what was it?" Draco asked, forgetting in his curiosity to be angry with his Head of House. "What made you so sure of him?"

Severus paused for a second, trying to think of how exactly to explain. He wasn't really sure of what it had been himself. It just was. "Sometimes," he finally began, "Sometimes a very powerful magical bond is formed between a parent and child. Though I had no memory of him, somehow on some level of sub-consciousness, I think I recognized him. Draco," he said, his voice softening, 

"I was not mis-sorted, though I know that is what many of your housemates are wondering. I was placed in Slytherin and that stupid hat had no intention of putting me in Gryffindor. The house of the parent does not guarantee what house the child will belong to. I was not, and still am not, Gryffindor material. Had I been anything else, I would have been in Ravenclaw."

Severus shook his head and folded his arms across his chest. "Slytherins get away with stuff that would get students from other houses expelled," he added, changing the subject as be began to become uncomfortable talking about himself. "We always have."

He paused in the clean up of his desk and raised an eyebrow at the silent student. "Don't you have homework?" he asked with a slight edge to his voice, signaling the end of the interrogation. 

Draco nodded, a small smile finding it's place on his face as he recognized the tone he had heard the Potions Master use many, many times, and re-shouldered his book bag. "Thank you, Professor," he said.

Draco was almost out the door when he halted at the threshold and turned back. The Slytherin Head of House had returned to his desk and to the never-ending stack of essays he so loved to torture students with.

With a trademark smirk, Draco swept out the door. Knowing the current Gryffindors, he'd have a week before he would be held accountable for his actions.

Silently thanking Professor Dumbledore for the opportunity, he hurried off to the library to check up on a hex he had been wanting to try on Granger's hair. He hoped she liked snakes.

As soon as he heard the door shut, Severus lay down the quill he had been using and rested his head into his hands with a long, tired sigh.

How long he stayed like that, he didn't know. But at some time, he became aware of a gentle pair of hands on his head and back. Slowly, he sat up and looked back, though he already knew who he'd see.

"You missed dinner again, Severus," Dumbledore said, brushing the long hair off his son's cheek.

Severus shrugged and looked away. "I was distracted," he answered softly. Then his eyes came back to meet those that seemed a mirror of his own. "I won't get them all back," he suddenly confessed, unable to keep what was bothering him locked away any longer, "Betrayal, to a Slytherin, is one of the worst crimes that can be committed against them."

"Oh Severus," Dumbledore said, cupping his child's face in his hands, "You can't save them all. You will loose some, we all do. Count the ones that don't follow that dark path that everyone seems to think they will take. Count them, not the others."

Dumbledore pulled Severus to his feet and then into a hug. The young wizard would have to work on rebuilding the trust between himself and his students, but Dumbledore had faith in him. Many of the students wanted to trust him. Severus understood them like none of the other teachers could even come close to claiming. Severus had been in their position and had the ability to help them when they felt no one else could.

Dumbledore was distracted from his thoughts when Severus sighed and snuggled closer against him. Silently, the Headmaster thanked whatever higher power there was to thank for blessing him with this child. He smiled and gently kissed his son's forehead. "I love you, Severus," he whispered.

Without realizing it, Severus began to cry. His life had gotten so much more complicated, but he had never been happier. Funny how that happens sometimes. 

"Love you too, Father."

__

~End

Thanks: To Meredith for helping me with Severus's middle name. It is pronounced DEE-drick (last part rhymes with brick)

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has been so patient with me. I apologize for how long it took me to get this last chapter up. Hopefully my next endeavor will progress faster.

Coming soon: Look for the squeal 'What You Leave Behind'. It will feature Sabra, Severus's mother.

~Jazz


End file.
